Thorns of War and Roses
by Dark Fury 13
Summary: Memories of the past haunt Rhysand as he tries to work with Tamlin to form an alliance made complicated by an Illyrian witch who seems hellbent on punishing those who imprisoned her. As memories begin to consume him, drawing him deeper into darkness, he begins to question if he's strong enough - powerful enough to overcome this new unseen enemy. Sequel Court of Sorrow and Despair.
1. Chapter 1

Thanks for taking the time to read my story. As always, I am only playing with the wonderful characters Sara Maas create for the Court of Thorns and Roses series.

Thorns of War and Roses

Chapter One

_Rhysand_

_Winter Solstice Ball_

_I spied the High Lord of Spring, his mate and three of his four sons the moment they entered the ball room, yet there was no sign of Tamlin. The only reason I showed up at all was because I'd sneaked a peak at the guest list and their response to the invitation clearly stated that the entire family would attend the ball. I'd given up a night of drinking, gambling and the fighting ring in the Illyrian Mountains with Cassian and Azriel, and the bastard decided not to attend. The very least he could have done was sent a note to say he was otherwise engaged._

_Tamlin was born at the start of the War, many years younger than me, and yet we'd been inexplicably drawn to each other from the first day we met. It was a different kind of friendship from the ones I shared with Cassian and Azriel – more intense, drawing me closer and closer to him as weeks turned into months and tonight marked the anniversary of the first time we met. Older and more sentimental to the passing of years, I remembered such things while he was probably off at a tavern somewhere searching for the perfect female to bed for the night._

_The Autumn Court arrived last as usual, Beron leading the way through the crowd with six of his seven sons following close behind him, hanging on his every word. His wife trailed far behind him with his scrawny seventh son at her side, his arm wrapped protectively around her back. As I watched Beron mingle with the other High Lords in attendance, I tried my damnedest to recall the youngest male's name, cursing Tamlin again when the name refused to materialize within my mind._

_A tap on my shoulder drew me from my thoughts of the weakling High Fae, and a smile curled on my lips as he cleared his throat. "I saw you from across the room, Rhys. You looked so damn miserable, I almost turned right back around and left to go to a tavern instead. No females have caught your eye?" As I turned to face him, he glanced over my shoulder at the dance floor, his gaze lingering on several beautiful females before his focus returned to me. "You've become blind in your old age, my friend. Or is it that they've all turned you down flat already?"_

_"You're late," I said, taking in his unlaced green tunic and disheveled golden-blond hair. "How many times must I remind you," I picked a piece of straw out of his hair, "that High Lord's sons do not rut in barns like common rabble?"_

_He lifted a brow in clear amusement. "Have you ever tried it?"_

_"Many times." A smile twitched at my lips. "In fact I almost impaled myself on a pitchfork once – it was worth it."I bobbed my head toward Beron's scrawny son, who at the moment was being tormented by his older brothers as his father watched approvingly. "What's the boy's name? For the life of me I can't recall it."_

_Tamlin chewed at his lower lip as he narrowed his eyes on the boy. "Leonard…no, that's not it. Leonel," he shook his head, "maybe it's Luciano." He shrugged. "I know it begins with an 'L'."_

_"Well, that was helpful." I rolled my eyes. "You missed seeing his brothers dunk his head in the punch bowl. They held his head under until his mother begged Beron to stop them."_

_"We should teach them a lesson and have some fun while we're at it."_

_Before I could ask what he suggested we do about the boy's older brothers, his fingers fluttered and a perfect glamour settled onto each of the six brothers. They couldn't see it themselves, each brother saw themselves as they normally appeared, and that magic extended to Beron as well, but to the rest of the guests at the ball, they appeared as six extraordinarily beautiful females. What happened next left us laughing for hours afterwards. Tamlin's brothers fell over themselves trying to get Beron's sons to dance with them._

_As soon as the fights started we ducked out of the ball, Tamlin laughing so hard he tripped over his own feet, landing face first in the grass. Rolling over, he held out a hand to me, and I helped him to his feet, all-the-while laughing at both sets of brothers._

_"Have you given any more consideration to my offer?" I said as my laughter finally faded away. "I'll train you myself and once you were ready, you could join the Illyrian forces – I'd see to it that we'd be stationed together. Hell, if you're going to join the military, you might as well join the most elite forces."_

_"You're forgetting that I don't have wings. They'd never accept me," he said as he brushed the hair out of his green eyes. "You know I want to, Rhys, but to the Illyrians, I would always be an outsider and be seen as a potential spy. Your two best friends have even warned you against spending time with me."_

_"You're my best friend," I blurted out, surprising both of us, and yet I didn't take it back. "Tell me you don't think of me as your best friend, and I'll stop asking you to leave that place you hate so much. If you can't say it, we'll start training tomorrow."_

_"What time are we talking about because I gotta tell ya, I plan to get really drunk tonight," he said, bumping his shoulder into mine. "If it's any time after the sun starts to descend for the day, I'll be there, but I should tell you I don't do mornings. In fact, I didn't even realize there was such a thing as sunrise until my father caught one of the pretty little tavern wenches in my bed one morning."_

_"I'll wake you at five. You can watch the sunrise as I put you through the paces," I said drily, and with a mere thought a wrapped package appeared in my hands. "Happy Winter Solstice, Tam." A box wrapped in silvery paper appeared in his hands, and he handed it to me as I handed him the gift I bought him. I waited until after he unwrapped his present, watching his expression as he opened the box to find a finely crafted violin inside. "You play beautifully, far better than anyone I've ever heard before – no matter what you do in life never give it up."_

_"Open yours," he urged, fingers lightly caressing the curve of the violin. I tore into the paper like I did when I was a youngling, and opened the box to find a black jacket threaded through with silver. The material was exquisite, silver thread shimmering softly in the warm glow of the moon. "Try it on. The tailor said that no matter your size, it will fit you to perfection."_

_"Why a jacket, Tam?" I said, as I slipped the jacket on over my loose fitting white shirt, and he was right, it fit perfectly._

_"Someday you will be High Lord of the Night Court, and I'm pretty sure you'll be expected to dress in something other than black leather pants and those loose fitting shirts you're so fond of. If you don't want to wear it now, keep it until then."_

_"I'll wear often," I bobbed my head at the violin, "now play something for me."_

XxXxXxX

Present Day

From the moment I let go of my anger over the loss of my mother and sister, the memories I'd locked deep within my mind were set free. Somewhere along the line, I'd forgotten that it was Tamlin who had given me my favorite jacket, one I wore so often and never stopped to consider why. It didn't escape my attention that the violin he'd played at the memorial for the fallen males, females, and younglings, was the gift I had given him so long ago when we were more than just friends.

The deep ache that had settled into my chest, making it hard to breathe, hadn't abated since the second I laid eyes on the fountain he'd created to depict my mother and sister along with his mother. As she had done with Azriel and Cassian, she had taken Tamlin under her wing, encouraging him not to give up even though he was right. The Illyrians never accepted his presence in their camps. Every single night during each of his stays at the camp, he'd come home bloodied and badly bruised. He didn't give up, wouldn't give up, and I kept encouraging him because I didn't want him to leave. Had it not been for Azriel and Cassian cornering me, demanding that I send him home before he ended up dead, bringing hell down upon us from the Spring Court, I wouldn't have suggested training him in private. Nonetheless, he'd come to care very deeply for my mother during those visits, and never would have willingly allowed her to come to any harm.

That was what I remembered when the fountain had been revealed, and I was on my feet before I could even think to stop myself. I hugged him in front of his entire Court, the words pouring out of my mouth, an apology long overdue. Then reality slapped me hard in the face as he reminded me that he and I were on opposite sides of the war he planned to wage against every other Court including my own.

Azriel and Cassian stayed behind when Feyre, Mor and I returned to Velaris. As promised, the two of them spent their days training new recruits, and from the reports I'd received it wasn't going well. Many of the males Tamlin now depended upon to fill his ranks were nothing more than children. It would take years before they would be strong enough to protect and defend the Spring Court, much longer to prepare them for war.

"You're upset," Feyre said, drawing me out of my troubled thoughts, and tossing the letter I'd received from Cassian onto the desk, I looked up at her. "Do you think he'd really declare war on Prythian with only an army of children at his side?"

"I don't know." I let loose a heavy breath. "I've considered every possible outcome if I released the lesser faeries from within the Hewn City, and none of them would achieve the goal he has in mind. It can't be done, not without heavy loss of lives. I would be freeing them only to see them slaughtered."

"We have to think of the Fae living in Velaris," she said, resting her hand on her stomach, "and our son. When Hybern attacked Velaris, I vowed it would never fall under attack again. I'm sorry, Rhys, but you've done all you can to help in this cause of his."

"It's not enough, Feyre," I said as she circled the desk to sit on my lap. "What kind of male am I if I refuse to fight for a cause I believe in with all my heart? I never once hesitated when it came to the freeing of the human slaves – how do I turn my back on my own people?"

"No, you have done more for your people than any other High Lord has ever done before," she whispered, truly believing that she was right, and I loved her for it. But the truth was that other High Lords protected those they could during Amarantha's reign, and by outsmarting Amarantha, Tamlin had spared all of his people from spending forty-nine years trapped Under the Mountain. "I feel sorry for these lesser faeries, I do, but this is a war that can't be won, and Tamlin knows it."

"Lili doesn't seem to feel that way," I said, nudging my head toward the letter the High Queen of the Mortal Lands had sent to try to persuade me into joining Tamlin's forces. "Of course Lucien has chosen to fight alongside Tamlin to his death which could easily influence her position on the matter."

"More likely it's the other way around." Her fingers wove through my hair. "That female is nothing but trouble – I feel sorry for Lucien. Mark my words, Rhysand, she'll bring him nothing but misery."

"What if I spoke to Drakon and Miryam on Tamlin's behalf?" I said, detecting more than a hint of jealousy in her tone. I couldn't blame her for envying the young queen's freedom to roam as she pleased, and as an act of self-preservation, I didn't want to make the mistake of reminding her again to enjoy her pregnancy – I slept on the couch for a week the last time I mentioned it. "They have strong views on the subject of forced servitude and could be swayed into allying with him."

"To what end?" Her brow lifted. "Even with their depleted military forces, it would still be possible for their combine armies to make it all the way to Velaris. Do you really want to face your friends on the opposite side of a battlefield?"

"No," I sighed, fingers tracing soothing circles across her back. "I just wish I knew what their plans were. Every single time they go into Tamlin's office for a meeting the shields go up, and not even Azriel has been able to break through them."

"Do you want to pay them a visit and see for yourself what Tamlin's up to?"

"No," I answered too quickly, her eyes narrowing on me. "No, I trust Azriel and Cassian will keep me informed of any news pertaining to the war."

"Go before I change my mind," she said, pushing up off my lap. "I'm serious, Rhys, if it helps to get you out of the – the melancholy mood you've been in lately then stay a few days or longer if you need to."

"I haven't been melancholy."

"Call it whatever you wish, but even if you're present in body, your mind is always somewhere else." As I opened my mouth to argue that wasn't true, she waved a hand dismissively. "There are parts of your mind you've locked me out of – I can't breach the shield you've set in place. I know it has something to do with that fountain at the memorial. So go and get whatever this is out of your system before our son is born."

"I don't want you to be angry at me, Feyre," I said, standing to pull her into my embrace, and brushed a kiss against her forehead. "You and our son are more important to me than anything else in this world, and I would never intentionally try to keep you out of my mind."

"I know," she whispered, pulling back slightly to look up at me. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just trying to understand and be supportive." Her hands framed my face, fingers lacing through my hair. "I've already spoken to Mor about staying with me while you're gone." Hearing that she'd already decided to send me away, my eyes narrowed slightly. "I know you, Rhysand. This is something you have to do – you won't be happy until it's settled one way or the other. Just promise me you'll be home in time to see our son being born."

"I won't be gone that long," I said, and having made the decision to go as she suggested, I felt as if the tight knot loosened inside of my chest. "Are you certain you want me to go?"

"I'll never be absolutely certain of anything where Tamlin is concerned, but I miss your smile and you haven't truly laughed since we returned from the Spring Court over a month ago. Mor has seen the change in you as well and she agrees that until you face your past, you'll never be able to look forward to the future."

"It could be a very short trip. He could take one look at me, and tell me to get the hell off his land."

"That's always a possibility." A grin pulled at her lips. "One I am secretly hoping will happen. I love, Rhysand." She whispered it again down our shared mate bond. "I took the liberty of packing for you."

"I never realized how eager you were to get rid of me," I chuckled lightly.

"Prick," she said, capturing my lips in a lingering kiss.

"I love you, Feyre…."

XxXxXxX

_"We're not supposed to be in here," Tamlin said, the deep timbre of his voice echoing off the walls of the cave. He touched his fingers to the deep bruises circling both of his swollen eyes, and winced. "I should have known you had no intention of helping with the preparations for Calanmai."_

_"On the contrary, I had every intention of gathering wood for the bonfires and setting out napkins and punch bowls." I caught hold of his jaw, and tilted his head from side to side. "Is this because of me?"_

_"No," pulling free of my grasp, he shook his head, "it's because of the power they think I possess. My father's not even dead, and my brother's are already vying for his power. It sickens me, Rhys. I have no desire to ever be High Lord – I'd much rather spend the rest of my life at the Wall."_

_"No, you'd much rather spend the rest of your days bedding beautiful females," I chuckled, snatching up one of the fur blankets from the makeshift bed used for the ritual. "Tell me, do they use the same mattress and furs every Fire Night." At that thought, I dropped the blanket back onto the mattress. "If I were High Lord of the Spring Court, I would make love to the chosen female up against the wall – her legs wrapped around me as I –"_

_"I don't want to be here for Fire Night," he cut in, and I couldn't say I blamed him as it was never his mother his father fucked during the ritual. She stayed locked in her bedroom under heavy guard while he rutted with some pretty Fae who'd caught his eye during the year. His eyes strayed to the shimmering, heated pool his father used to wash away the yearly betrayal of his mate. "The manor is always unnaturally quiet for weeks after Calanmai. What if we glamoured ourselves to appear human, and spent a few weeks seeing the world from their side of the Wall?"_

_"Your father would be furious – my father wouldn't be thrilled that I just up and disappeared." Imagining the look on my father's face when no one could find where I'd went, I gave a curt nod. "I should warn you that their food is terribly bland, and their females cannot even begin to compare to the ones on this side of the Wall."_

_"We'll leave tonight after the fires are lit to celebrate tomorrow's festivities."_

XxXxXxX

We'd spent two weeks traveling across the mortal lands disguised as humans, spending our nights in local taverns, camping out under the stars, and although I'd buried the memory of that trip deep within my mind, now I clearly recalled how Tamlin often pointed out examples of how my efforts in the war had not been in vain. It was easy to pick them out – the ones who had been slaves. Although they had been freed to return home, they carried with them the hideous scars of their enslavement. Early on the Courts started to brand their slaves to make certain their property was returned to them if they ever tried to escape. The slaves of the Autumn Court were branded on their foreheads, and they were the first ones I noticed in every village we traveled through.

At the time he'd called me a hero, and as the bastard born son of a High Lord, I refused to accept the praise he showered me with, yet I couldn't deny how good it felt to see the admiration in his eyes. I'd lived hundreds of years by that point, but those precious moments I'd locked away inside myself, were the first time I'd ever felt truly good about myself.

Wiping away the moisture gathering in my eyes, I knocked on the door of the cottage where Azriel and Cassian were residing while they trained Tamlin's sentries. Shadows seeped out from beneath the door and through the cracks, and a moment later Azriel threw opened the door, catching me in a flying bear hug and tackling me to the ground.

"What if I was your enemy?" His famous blade Truth-Teller pressed against my throat. "We've only been gone a little over a month, and you have already forgotten to always be on your guard."

"Let him up," Cassian called out from the doorway.

In one fluid movement, I disarmed Azriel, flipped him over, and pressed a knife of my own against his throat. "You're getting slow in your old age, Az." Studying his handsome face for a moment, I added, "and fat. What are they feeding you here?"

"Elain worries that he isn't eating enough," Cassian laughed. "She piles his plate with food every day and night, and refills it before it's empty. I've warned him he won't be able to fly soon if he keeps eating the way he does."

"I haven't gained a pound," Azriel huffed, and the second I pulled the blade away from his throat, he bucked me off him and sprung to his feet with catlike grace.

"How is she?" I asked as I pushed up off the ground and brushed the grass and dust off my pants. "You haven't mentioned her in any of your letters."

"She amazes me more and more every day," Azriel said, sheathing Truth-Teller.

"She's different – confident and unafraid to share her views on any topic," Cassian said when Azriel failed to elaborate. "If you've come to take her home, you'll have a fight on your hands."

"From Tamlin?"

"No, her," he chuckled, tucking his wings in tight. "She's very passionate about this – revolution. For Feyre's sake, I tried several times to persuade her into returning to Velaris. She politely but firmly refused to go home."

"She banned him from the manor." Azriel smirked. "And from the gardens."

"Actually, she threatened to tear off my wings if I broached the subject again." A sheepish grin. "I don't ask her to go home anymore."

"We are talking about Elian, right?" I said, having trouble picturing Feyre's sister as anything other than the quiet demure female I'd come to know over the past few years.

"Tamlin and Brie continuously encourage her to speak her mind," Cassian explained, hazel eyes shifting briefly to Azriel. "Since they no longer feel the strong pull of the mate bond, she and Lucien have become – close." A low growl rumbled in Azriel's throat. "Don't look at me like that, Az. If you're in love with Elian then tell her instead of spending your days hanging on every word Lili says. No female likes to feel as if she comes second in the life of the male she's in love with."

"He's right," I said, earning a glare from Azriel. "It was easy when you believed she was Lucien's mate. You could love her from the sidelines as you did with Mor, and you would never have to risk changing your views about your own self worth. At some point you have to stop feeling as if you aren't worthy of being loved by a female. If you continue to hide your feelings and keep the relationship between the two of you from moving forward, you'll end up losing her."

"Did you make the trip all the way from Velaris just to give me dating advice?" Azriel grumbled, wings flaring wide before he tucked them behind his back.

"For as educational as that might be for you, no, that's not why I'm here." A smile twitched at my lips. "I'm going to take over for Cassian so I can see for myself how ill-advised this war is."

"In other words, Feyre kicked him out," Cassian chuckled, holding out his hand, palm flat. "Pay up, Az."

"You actually bet on the odds of whether Feyre would kick me out or not?" I said as a pouch of coins appeared in Azriel's badly scarred hand. He handed it to Cassian and it vanished again. "Were Amren and Mor in on the betting as well?"

"It's well known that your mother kicked your father out in the later months of her pregnancy," Cassian said with a grin. "I believe in his case it was because he chewed his food too loudly."

"So what was the fight about?" Azriel said, happy to have the conversation shift from him to me.

"We didn't have a fight," I said, refusing to share any more details as to why Feyre urged me to leave. "You should get going Cassian. Although she would never admit it, Nesta is eager to see you."

He turned to head inside to gather his clothes then shifted back to face me. "Do you think it's wise to take your – vacation on Tamlin's lands? Showing up to attend the memorial was one thing, but to take up residence in the Spring Court for an undetermined amount of time, is quite another. You'll end up killing each other within a few days."

"Azriel will be here to make certain we don't come to blows," I said, and Azriel grunted in response as I bobbed my head at the doorway. "You have five minutes to pack and leave or I'll send Azriel home instead."

After a long moment, he nodded. "If you're going to insult him – which I'm sure you'll end up doing at one point or another, try not to do it in front of the people of his Court. It'll undo all the work he's put into regaining their trust."

"I'll keep that in mind…."

**Author's note**

**I decided to have flashbacks in this story from Rhysand's pov to show the friendship between him and Tamlin before the deaths of their families. When he spoke of their friendship he was hesitant, lots of stops and starts, and it always felt like it was a deeper friendship than he led on to Feyre. If you agree or disagree, share your thoughts with me. Thanks again for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for reading! Please share your thoughts with me as reviews are golden:)

Chapter Two

_Lucien_

"What if we get caught, Lili?" I whispered as I peered through the tangled branches of shrubs we hid behind to spy on one of the High Fae of the Autumn Court. I recognized him as a friend and advisor of my father. We'd watched him for the past two nights as he made his way to the hovel of one of his servants, and listened to her sobbing long after he left her to return his manor.

"We won't get caught." She glanced over her shoulder at me, golden-brown eyes lingering on my lips. "Someone needs to take a stand and do something to protect this girl – how many more times does she need to be raped before it is clear that he is not a good man?"

"You're right. It's just that once we do this – once we take the law into our own hands, there's no taking it back."

"Good, I wouldn't want to take it back," she whispered, and shifting to face me fully, she rested a hand over my rapidly beating heart. "My uncle beat me and Brie on a regular basis and no one did anything. Brie may have healed the bruises, but they knew – they knew how he treated us and he continued to get away with it until I died. I won't be like those men and women. I won't let inaction make me complicit in this girl's suffering."

"When I suggested we see for ourselves what kinds of foul treatment the lesser faeries endured, it was with the hope that Tamlin was wrong, that we were wrong." I drew in a slow calming breath, and blowing it out through slightly parted lips, I nodded. "No one can know about this, Lili. Not Brie, not Tamlin and especially not Azriel."

Before she could respond the door opened and he stepped outside, and maybe that was for the best, giving me no time to reconsider the course we had set for ourselves. He started forward toward the manor, stopping short at the sight of us as we winnowed into his path. "Lucien," he said, recognizing me instantly. His lecherous hazel eyes slid to Lilianna, slowly traveling downward over her body. "Such a pretty little thing," he chuckled lightly, unaware of the power raging through her – power from many ancient Night Court High Lords. "Little whore," he added, turning his full attention to her, "come warm my bed and I will conveniently forget to inform his father and brothers that he's found a new plaything." When we failed to respond, a smile pulled at his pale, thin lips. "I see he didn't tell you about Jesminda." Something akin to glee lit up his face at the thought of being the one to tell her about how Jesminda died. "His father and brothers killed her while he," he bobbed his head at me, "watched and did nothing."

Those we the last words he ever spoke. One moment he was standing before us and the next he was writhing on his back, blood leaking out of his eyes, nose, mouth and ears. I don't know what she did – what she power she used, but his death wasn't quick or painless. "You've been judged," she said, kneeling beside him to trail her index finger through the blood gurgling out of his mouth, and wrote the word 'guilty' on his forehead. "And your sentence is death." Panic filled his eyes as bloody tears rolled down the sides of his face, a plea for me to save him. "He won't help you – he's just here to _watch_ and do _nothing_."

"End it," I whispered, stomach heaving as I heard the bones in his neck crack and grind against each other. I swallowed hard against the acrid bile rising swiftly in my throat, Lilianna not so lucky. She threw up all over the ground, tears spilling down her cheeks for the male she killed.

"I-I looked into his mind – the things he did…the things he wanted to do," she looked up at me through a tangle of golden-brown hair over her watery eyes, "h-he deserved to die, Lucien. S-so why am I crying for him?"

"The moment it becomes easy and emotionless to kill someone is the moment you become the thing that needs to be killed," I whispered, sidestepping the corpse to gather her into my arms. "Never again, Lili. It was too easy – too damn easy to take a life out of revenge. We have to be better than our enemies. This is what they do," I waved a hand at the body and the blood soaking into the ground, "not what we do."

"But when we winnowed into the Hewn City under the cover of shadows, you said these monsters needed to be stopped by any means necessary," she said reminding me of the trip we made earlier in the week.

"I was angry," I said as I recalled how Keir sat up on Rhysand's throne while two females were stripped of their clothes and whipped to death with a lash encrusted with shards of glass. No one spoke out in their defense – no one tried to stop it from happening. "I don't want to be like him, and I certainly don't want you to be like his mate." Due to her unfailing bravery and ability to speak her mind freely and eloquently to those who were much older than her, I often forgot she was only sixteen years old, but after tonight I knew I would need to choose my words more carefully in the future. "If I made you feel as if this was the only way to win the freedom these people deserve, I am sorry."

"It's not your fault," she rasped, fresh tears filling her eyes. "I haven't felt true anger since the day I died – sadness and disappointment, yes, but not anger. Seeing these atrocities with my own eyes, hearing that poor girl crying, I'm beyond furious that only a handful of people care. How do we help these people if even Tamlin and you don't believe we will win this war?"

"I'm hoping that we can gain their freedom without having to go to war." My hand slipped beneath her tunic – my tunic, fingers grazing along the velvety soft skin of her back. "Did I ever mention how sexy you look in my tunic?"

"For as nice as that is to hear," she glanced around me at the dead body on the ground, "we have work to do." She drew in a shuddering breath, and wiped away the tears still silently sliding down her cheeks. "The girl needs to be taken somewhere safe, and we need to figure out what to do with the body."

I almost suggested leaving it for other High Fae to find and fearfully wonder about, but if his death and the dark power used to kill him got back to Rhysand, it would undermine any bit of progress he and Tamlin have made over the past few months. Using my own power, I set the body ablaze, burning hot and fast turning the body to ash within seconds. As the ashes scattered on the cool breeze, we made our way to the front door of the girl's home.

With a gentle knock on the door, Lilianna entered first and at the sound of chains rattling, she paused just past the threshold. Fingers lacing through hers, I stepped around her and narrowed my one good eye on the female curled up on the bed. Lilianna gasped, or maybe it was me who sucked in the sharp breath at the sight of dark scrolling tattoos on the arm covering and hiding her face from view – Illyrian tattoos.

"Lucien," Lilianna whispered, gesturing at the spike in the floor where the chains around her ankle originated from – a prisoner, not the lesser faerie we believed her to be. "Why would your father's advisor hold an Illyrian woman captive?"

"I don't know." Even if they didn't put much stock or care in their females, if the Illyrian's knew about her, they wouldn't have let it slide. Warriors through and through, they would have seen it as a reason to attack the Autumn Court, and yet in all my spying, I had never heard even a whisper that my father or his armies had captured an Illyrian female. "We'll take her to the Spring Court and let Azriel or Cassian bring her home to her people." Hearing that, the female let out a muffled cry and shot up off the bed as if to attack us. Quickly pushing Lilianna behind me, I drew my sword. "I don't want to hurt you," I whispered, my golden eye taking in her blood-stained tattered nightgown, thick matted hair entirely covering her face from view, and more Illyrian tattoos peeking out through the tears in the thin material of the nightgown. "I promise he's not going to hurt you anymore and neither is anyone else."

She mumbled something incoherently, I looked to Lilianna to see if she understood what she said, Lilianna shook her head. "Lower your sword, Lucien," she whispered, resting a hand on my arm. Terrified of us, the female's chest heaved with every panted breath. "She's not going to harm me," she added when I didn't immediately sheath my sword. "She's just scared." Unconcerned for own wellbeing, she slipped around me and hurried over to the female. "It's going to be all right." Lilianna'a tone gentle as she carefully worked to untangle the hair from the Illyrian's face. "Lucien, get one of those blankets to put around her."

I did as she asked, sheathing my sword as I crossed the small expanse to snatch a blanket off the bed. Lilianna drew in a sharp breath, and I turned away from the bed to find a horrified expression etched across every line and contour of her face. "Lili?" Her hand flew to her mouth, and she shook her head. The female mumbled something again, more urgency in her tone. Circling to face her fully, the blanket dropped from my hand at the sight of thick golden thread woven tightly through the skin of her upper and lower lip, sealing her mouth shut. The word 'whore' had been carved into her forehead, the strokes of each letter vicious and brutal. Hazel eyes pleaded with me – begged me, and I knew to marrow she wanted me to end her misery. "I promise we're going to take care of you." Not what she wanted to hear, but I needed to try to right the wrongs my father's advisor committed against her. "Can you sever the thread with your power, Lili?"

For several long moments, Lilianna concentrated on the thread pierced through the Illyrian's face, to no avail. "Maybe Tamlin or Rhysand might be able to undo the magic holding those threads in place."

The female shook her head emphatically, dark raven hair spilling over her face once more. "They won't harm you," I whispered, ghosting my fingers along her face to brush the strands out of her eyes. For some reason I couldn't fathom, those haunted eyes of her seemed familiar. "I vow to you that the Autumn Court will not get away with this – I will not let them get away with it."

"The chains," Lilianna reminded me, drawing my attention to the heavy metal cuff around her ankle, and the cut and bruised skin beneath it.

Wielding my power, I honed in on the links of the chain, fire cutting through steel with precision and accuracy. The metal cuff would have to be removed later when she was safe in the Spring Court. Lilianna wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, and together the three of us winnowed to Azriel and Cassian's temporary lodging. If anyone knew who this female was, it would be the two of them, but instead of finding either of them, it was Rhysand who greeted us at the door.

"We found her in the Whispering Woods," I said before he could ask or Lilianna offered a different version of where we found the female. "We figured Azriel or Cassian would know who she is," I added as he studied the Illyrian tattoos on her arms.

"Lili, take her inside and help her get washed up," Rhysand said after a long moment, and I couldn't be certain if he believed the vague account of where we'd found her. Nor did he show any sign of recognition as he looked her over one last time before Lilianna led her inside. "Did you try to remove the thread from her mouth?" he asked once the door closed behind them.

"Lili tried but she couldn't undo whatever spell was used to keep them in place. We thought maybe you or Tamlin might –"

"She's a witch." His eyes lingered on the door then slid to me. "From the binding spell inked into her skin – a very powerful one. The threading stays where it is."

"I knew you could be cruel, but to leave her mouth sewn shut –"

"Her mouth was sewn shut to keep her from speaking the words to undo the binding spell on her magic," he growled, his gaze straying to the door once more. "In all my long years I have only once seen the Illyrians do what was done to her – it wasn't enough. She bewitched a male with those eyes of hers and spoke into his mind how to unravel the threading. When his body was found, it was said that several Illyrian warriors lost the contents of their stomachs. Then one by one, the males who found the body – the ones that burned the remains, all of them later succumbed to raging fevers." His eyelids shut movement beneath them as if seeing the vivid memory of the witch and the unfortunate male who freed her. "Those tattoos – the binding scrolls inked into her skin…they were done by a High Lord. They were done by my father, and they will remain as they are."

"If she could bewitch a male with her eyes, why not pluck them out?" I said, recalling how when I looked into her hazel eyes they felt familiar. "I looked into her eyes, and other than feeling as if I'd seen them somewhere before, nothing happened. It sounds to me like a story made up to frighten younglings into behaving."

"I was there when they rendered the other witch unconscious with a sleeping draught in her wine. I watched how quickly my father worked to bind her magic while her lips were sewn shut. There was genuine fear in their eyes. I was young, not yet old enough to train in their camps, and to this day I have never seen fear on their faces, even in battle, the way I did that day – it's not a story for younglings, and you would do well to never look her in the eyes again."

"Again, I have to ask why your father or the Illyrian's didn't pluck out her eyes if they are so dangerous?" I said, making a conscious effort not to touch the scarred skin around my metal eye.

"He tried, but even with her dark magic bound, he couldn't remove her eyes." She'd rattled him, that much was obvious, and if the High Lord of the Night Court was worried, that didn't bode well for the rest of us. "We'll keep her presence a secret until I have Azriel find out which camp she came from and the true extent of her dark powers."

"You want me to keep this a secret from Tamlin?"

"I want you to protect your High Lord, and if that means keeping it a secret until I figure out what to do with her, then yes, I want you to keep this to yourself for now."

"Two days," I said, chest constricting at the thought of keeping secrets from Tamlin. "You have two days to find out who she is and what threat she poses before I make her presence known to Tamlin."

He considered my ultimatum for several moments then gave a curt nod. "I'll send him home immediately."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for taking the time to read my story :)**

Chapter Three

_Azriel_

Rhysand whispered through my mind the order to return to our temporary lodgings immediately, and from the tone in his voice, I cut short the walk I was taking through the gardens with Elian. I left her at the terrace of the manor with a promise to see her in the morning, and disappeared into the shadows only to reappear moments later inside the cottage. Outside the door, I heard Rhysand speaking to Lilianna and Lucien, assuring them repeatedly that no harm would come to the female unless it was absolutely necessary.

Unable to detect the female they were speaking of, my shadows seeped out from within my skin, moving like dark mist throughout the three bedroom dwelling until they honed in on an Illyrian female curled up in the corner of the bedroom Cassian had been using up until his departure. My shadows danced and floated along the hardwood floor, wispy tendrils reaching outward toward her. The first vision came to me of a metal cuff circling her ankle, deep bruising beneath the metal. Dark tendrils wove up her frail body covered in strange Illyrian tattoos the likes of which I'd never seen before. Shadows weaved in and out of her mouth sealed shut by thick golden thread then moved upward to her hazel eyes – those eyes I couldn't look away from them. Familiar – haunting…mesmerizing, calling out to me – searching for something that I couldn't even begin to fathom.

"Azriel!" Rhysand's panic voice broke the stupor I'd fallen under. "Pull back your shadows! Now!" My shadows recoiled instantly, rushing back into me with enough force to knock me off my feet. Enough force for me to know he'd used his power to push them into me. "Don't ever do that again in her presence, do you understand me? I thought I lost you!"

"What the hell are you talking about, Rhys?"

"I've been calling out to you for the past hour, and nothing. Your face was slack, your eyes – vacant." His body trembled as he spoke, panic filling his violet eyes. "I'd heard stories, I'd seen what they can do with my own eyes – don't ever use your shadows around the witch again. They feed upon them." His gaze slid to the siphons on each of my arms. "Use your power to light up your siphons."

I did as he asked only producing a faint warm blue glow. My eyes narrowed as I concentrated all my power on my siphons with the same results. "What happened?" I asked, looking up at him for answers.

"What did you see when you were connected to the witch?" he said instead of answering my question. "Did she say anything to you? Did she whisper through your mind the way I can?"

"No," I shook my head, "no, she was searching for something she lost – something that was stolen from her…who is she, Rhys?"

"That's what I called you here to find out, but now I'm thinking I should do as my father once did when faced with dealing with a witch who couldn't be stopped any other means." He held out a hand to help me up off the floor. "Lucien and Lili found her in the Whispering Woods or at least that's where he told me he found her. The chain that was attached to the cuff around her ankle must've kept her from using her spells to bewitch a male. At the very least it added strength to the binding my father inked into her skin."

"Your father bound her powers?"

He nodded. "Only a High Lord has enough power to bind the dark magic of a witch – I'd seen him do it once, but I never heard anything about this female. The first time he bound a witch she bewitched a male to remove the threading around her mouth then killed him and many others. My father finally killed her, but not before she inflicted a wound that devastated my parents. My mother never bore another child because of her dark magic so I need to tread carefully when dealing with this witch."

"You want me to find out who she is and what we're dealing with in terms of her magic." It wasn't a question. If she was a threat to Rhysand and Feyre's happiness, and a danger to the Illyrians and their families, I needed to find out where she'd come from sooner rather than later. "I'll head to the Illyrian Mountains as soon as we've finished speaking. Should I send Cassian back to continue training Tamlin's sentries?"

"No," he said, the worry in his eyes speaking volumes. He would rather stay alone, endangering his own life, than to put any of us in harm's way. "Until I know the full extent of what she is capable of I won't trust her to be alone with anyone and that includes the residents of the Spring Court."

"You said Lucien and Lilianna found her – did she drain their powers as well?"

"Not that I could sense." His gaze shifted and narrowed on the doorway of the bedroom where she was being kept in. "Even amongst the darkest of witches there is some small shred of honor. If she feels as if they saved her, she will not harm them." His eyes returned to me. "For the sake of our son and future children, I have to shut Feyre out of my mind while dealing with this witch. She won't like it – she'll fight to break through my shields to see for herself that I am all right." He strode to the desk in the corner of the room, found some paper and a quill pen, and hastily scrawled a letter to her. "If this letter is not enough to assure her I am fine, you'll need to convince her not to break through my shield or she will be open me up for the witch to feed upon. One crack in my shield and she will slip right through. Understand?"

"You're asking for the impossible," I said as he handed me the letter, magically sealed shut for her eyes alone. "If she senses you're in danger nothing I say or do will keep her from you." There was something he wasn't telling me, something that forced him to keep her alive when every instinct within him screamed for him to do as his father had done and kill the witch. "What aren't you telling me, Rhys? She's rattled you, and I have never seen you rattled before. Not even in the worst of battles. How bad is this going to get?"

"I'm selfish," he rasped after a long moment, eyes turning watery. "I would damn the rest of the world for the happiness I've shared with Feyre. I want the future that was promised after the war with Hybern. I want all of it – but to kill a dark witch, I would have to be willing to give up something I love or could potentially love. It's a trade off. Something good must die for something wicked and evil to perish. For my father it was the child growing within my mother's womb – my brother or sister. He felt he had no other choice, and I respected him for it, but I will do everything within my power and beyond it, not to have to make the same decision."

"Your father chose his unborn child to die in place of you or your mother?" He nodded, rubbing at his eyes. "If she is as great a threat as the previous dark witch, we will find another way to end her life. You will not have to choose between the people you love as to whom should live and who should die."

XxXxXxX

"If he's fine why can't I speak to him through our mate bond?" Feyre said, scanning the letter I'd given her a third time. "It feels as if he's gone – it feels like –" she pressed the letter to her chest. "When I lost him, when he died…we promised each other that we would die together next time so if he is mortally wounded you need to tell me…."

"He's very much alive," I assured her, folding her into my arms as tears spilled down her cheeks. "He's dealing with something that requires his full attention. Once it is finished, you will feel his presence in your mind once again."

"Is it Tamlin?" She snaked her arms up between us, and pushed me away from her. "I never should have sent him to try to repair their friendship. I knew in my heart –"

"As far as I know, he hasn't even seen Tamlin yet," I said, silently cursing Rhysand for not telling her about the witch, leaving her imagination to run wild with all sorts of scenarios as to what kind of danger he was in. "There is a problem with the Illyrian warriors," I added as that was true enough without breaking Rhysand's confidence in me. "The years have not lessened their anger over the loss of lives in the war. One female in particular is stirring up a lot of trouble." Another half-truth. "He needs his full focus on this situation before it gets out of hand, but I promise you, he is fine."

"I should be with him." Her hand rested on her rounded stomach, a protective gesture. "Take me to him."

"I can't."

Her blue-gray eyes flashed with anger at my refusal to do as she asked. "I am your High Lady – you will take me to him right now."

"I'm sorry, Feyre, but he was very clear when he said he needed to handle this situation alone. Don't force me to choose between the two of you. To protect him – to protect you and your unborn child, I would follow his command even if it created a rift between us."

"If something bad happens to him I will never forgive you," she hissed, the venom in her tone like a solid punch to the gut.

"This is just a precaution," I said instead of telling her I wouldn't forgive myself either if something happen to him. "He said he would write to you as often as possible, and he'll be home as soon as the conflict has ended peacefully."

"And he just expects me to sit around here waiting for letters to prove he hasn't died in this conflict?"

"I will tell him you expect the next letter to be delivered in person so you can see for yourself he is unharmed." It was the best I could do under the circumstances. If he wanted to keep his dealings with the witch a secret, he would have to lie to her himself, and maybe if she saw him with her own eyes, it would lessen her fears about his wellbeing. "I hate leaving you upset, but I have to travel to the outermost Illyrian camp to speak the commander about this situation."

"Do you think they will all align against us?"

"We are hoping to avoid it by making ourselves available to listen to their complaints." There again, a bit of truth amidst the true reason for my trip. The Illyrians had been angry since the war, feeling as if we used the battle to even old scores for their treatment of us when we trained in their camps. "Commander Gretchner will be a challenge. From the few encounters I've had with him, I can say with authority that he's a real son of a bitch. Of all the camps, his is the worst to live in by far."

"Will Rhys be meeting with him as well?"

"If it becomes necessary he will meet with him," I said, glancing toward the doorway as I sensed Mor's presence outside. "I will send you a note to inform you how the meeting went."

"Keep him safe," she said, sending a brittle smile Mor's way as she entered the mansion.

I took that as my cue to leave, keep my interaction with Mor short at the doorway before heading outside. Wings flaring wide, I launched into the air for the long flight to the outermost Illyrian camp. Siphons dimmed and flickering by the drain of my power, the biting cold winds quickly seeped beneath my skin, made for a miserable trip, but thankfully by the time I touched down in the packed snow in Gretchner's camp, most of my power had been restored.

I found him outside at the fighting rings watching two young males facing off against each other. Bloody trails leaked down the badly bruised face of the thinner of the two, and his arm was clearly broken, and yet Gretchner wouldn't call the match. To his credit, the boy kept fighting, kept searching for an opening to attack, but the other boy was faster on his feet, striking blow after blow until the thinner boy planted face-first into the hard snow, and didn't move to get up.

"Why are you here, Shadowsinger?" he said, his sights remaining on the fallen boy, his beefy arms folding across his chest.

"I am looking for any information you might have on a dark witch," I said, silently willing the boy to get up, to fight through the pain as I had once done. He didn't move. "The current High Lord's father bound her magic and her mouth was sewn shut. I've been authorized to offer a hefty reward for any pertinent information in regards to who she is and the extent of her powers."

"I have run this camp for hundreds of years and there has never once been a dark witch in this territory," he said, turning to face me fully and straightening to his full impressive height, towering over me by several inches. At one point he might have been considered handsome, but now a jagged scar cut through his face from forehead to the opposite jaw, his right eye sewn shut. The clang of metal against metal drew his attention away from me, his one good hazel eye focusing on two older males battling in another ring. In his camp, you either won in the ring or you died, and both males were out for blood. "Is the binding on her magic failing?"

"It's possible that it is," I said, cautious not to give him too much information about the witch. "If it does fail, who would she blame for imprisoning her powers? You must know something, Gretchner. If you didn't, you wouldn't be asking about the state of the binding spell."

"Not much news from other camps reaches the furthest region in the territory." He scratched at his stubbled jaw. "There were whispers of a dark witch rising, her dark powers far exceeding that of her predecessor. The story goes something like this – when the moon was bathed in blood, she gave birth to demon spawn, and on that night her full powers came to fruition."

"She had a demon child?" He shrugged a shoulder, neither confirming nor denying the existence of another potential dark witch. "She would be an adult by now – this demon child. If she was alive, would she be looking for her mother?"

"I don't know." Another clang of swords rang through the bitter cold air, blood spraying on the snow from one male's face. "If the story is true, the child was never hers to begin with. It belonged to the demon that granted her wish for dark power. In all likelihood it was ripped from her arms from the second it drew in its first breath."

She was searching for the child she lost, scanning through my mind for a face that looked familiar before Rhysand interrupted, pulling me free from her grasp. "How would I find the camp she originated from?"

"Every camp keeps records of its –" His voice trailed off abruptly, a wicked smile pulling at the scars through his lips as the sword fight came to an end, one male's blade piercing through the other male's Illyrian leathers. My gaze followed his, and I watched as he twisted the blade before yanking it out coated in blood. The mortally wounded male dropped to his knees clutching at his stomach in an effort to staunch the flow of blood, to no avail. "If she lived in one of the other camps, you would find a record of her birth along with the day the High Lord bound her magic."

"Other than binding her magic, is there any other way to drain her of her power?"

"The High Lord must be worried if he sent you to find out how to stop her," he chuckled lightly. "And right he should be since it was his father who bound her magic in the first place. If he knows what's good for him, he'll kill her and be done with it. Dark witches have a long memory for those who slighted them – they will raze entire camps to the ground in revenge for what has been done to them. It was done before and it will happen again."

"What if I could find her daughter and bring her to her?"

"Don't even consider it," he warned all traces of humor gone from his face. "If you bring two forces of darkness together, the result will be catastrophic. With their combine power, they could easily destroy the Night Court and every Illyrian male, female, and youngling."

"If any of the information you provided leads to the discovery of this female's name, I will personally deposit the reward into your account," I said, wings flaring wide signaling the end of the conversation.

"Give your High Lord this message," he said as I turned to leave. I shifted back to face him, preparing myself to fight my way out of camp if necessary. "The Illyrians of this camp and every other camp will not bow down to his child bride. She may fancy herself the High Lady of the Night Court, but that title only has meaning amongst the pathetically soft dreamers of Velaris. He can dress her up in Illyrian leathers – that does not make her Illyrian. Once feared, his mate has made him weak in the eyes of every Illyrian save for you and the other dog. You think no one saw him waiting at the far back of the battle between Hybern? A true High Lord Illyrian warrior would have been right there on the front lines fighting alongside his armies – at least I can say his General was not a coward that day." He nudged his head toward the boy finally pushing himself up off the ground, blood spilling down his face from multiple gashes, arm bent at an odd angle. "We say to the young ones before they go into the ring – are you Illyrian or are you like the High Lord…the boy is Illyrian the same cannot be said for Rhysand. As far as we are concerned, any titles and rankings he once held are stripped from him henceforth – he is no longer Illyrian."

"You can't –"

"Yes, we can," he cut in with a withering smile. He most definitely could. We'd all, every Illyrian warrior, had been well versed in the rules and punishment for failing to live up to the exceedingly high standards set forth by our forefathers – not even his title as High Lord exempt him from being judged and found guilty of failure on any battlefield. "The High Lord has no say in the stripping of rank and title in the Illyrian forces. Like all others who have disgraced themselves, he will be allowed start over with every other new recruit and work his way up the ranks again – unless, unless he wants to challenge every Commander and General to fight him to regain his honor."

"Are you saying he would have to fight Cassian and myself along with every other high ranking officer in the Illyrian forces?" I asked for clarification even though I knew that was exactly what he would have to do to regain his honor amongst the Illyrians. No one ever chose the latter option as they knew there was no chance of winning, not against such terribly uneven odds. They would rather start over as a grunt than to be defeated many times over in the ring by the most powerful of Illyrian warriors. He nodded. "I'll let him know of the Commanders joint decision."

"Remind him that if he does choose to fight, he will do so with only strength, cunning, armor and weaponry," he said, taking great pleasure in the vicious blow he had struck against Rhysand. "If he uses his powers in the ring during the Searo Trials, he forfeits any chance he has of regaining his place as an Illyrian warrior."

"He knows the rules," I gritted out, hands balling into tight fists.

"Good, then you won't have to remind him not to wear the leathers until he has proven himself to all of Illyria."

"You would do well to remember that even if he is no longer an Illyrian warrior, he is still your High Lord," I rasped, a deep ache spreading through me at the thought of having to deliver the sentence the commanders of his Illyrian forces brought down upon him. It would crush him. "You should fear him instead of provoking him to wrath."

"Why would any warrior fear a male who hides behinds the skirts of an insignificant female child?" he laughed, the sound of it carrying on the frigid breeze. "He brought this upon himself when he started allowing his mate to make all his decisions for him."

Without waiting for me to respond – to defend Feyre and Rhysand, he strode into the nearest ring, and motioned for the male who had just fought and killed in the ring to step inside the circle. Dismissing me as if I didn't outrank him, leaving me to return to the Spring Court to deliver a devastating blow of my own.

**Author's note: the idea that Feyre could just step right in as High Lady never sat right with me especially when dealing with the Illyrians. They never even accepted Rhysand, Azriel or Cassian so why would they accept the rule of a female(which they have little regard for) that would be little more than a child in their eyes. It's also clear they resented how the battle went, the lives they lost at the front of the line, and yet the best they could do is grumble and complain about it even as Cassian and Rhysand are trying to make changes in their camps that they don't want. Maybe I'm wrong, let me know your thoughts...**


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks again for reading. If you're enjoying please let share your thoughts with me...:)

Chapter Four

_Rhysand_

_There are places no one should ever travel to, forbidden places within Prythian, the Devil's Bridge was one of those places, and yet that was where I found myself when Tamlin scoffed at the idea of dark witches. Of course he had heard the stories; all younglings thrived on scary tales, none of them believing the stories to be true. So certain dark witches didn't exist, he'd wagered his entire monthly allowance that I couldn't prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were real._

_Our horses turned skittish halfway through the Barren Forest, rightly named as no creature dared to enter the woods that smelled of death. Eerily quiet, the husks of once thriving trees with their skeletal branches reaching upward toward the gray sunless sky, shifted through the cracked and rotted soil, forcing us to mark our path with a trail of power so as not to get lost forever within the haunted woods. __He drew in a sharp breath as we cleared the trees, grimacing at the foul taste of the thick, red-tinged air. Fires dotted the macabre landscape, spiraling upward like tornados from deep fissures in the earth. His eyes caught on a throne of bones surrounded by the skeletal remains of the thirteen original dark witches, all kneeling, skulls to the ground, bony arms outstretched toward whatever once sat upon the throne._

_"How did you find this place?" Tamlin whispered, acutely aware that the dead were listening. His gaze traveled to the crumbling black stone bridge behind the throne, eyes drawn to the strange humming coming from within it. "Have you ever crossed under the bridge?"_

_"To answer your first question," I said, keeping my sights locked on the bridge, my hand on the hilt of my sword, "I followed my father here when he killed one of the dark witches. I wasn't supposed to – he forbade me from coming with him." I bobbed my head toward the dark smoke spilling along the ground from within the bridge. "He called out to whatever lives beyond the bridge –" I swallowed at the memory of the burning creature and the myriad of voices that filled my head as it spoke, calling out to me to spill my father's blood and take what was rightfully mine. "I didn't know it at the time, but he offered up the life of my mother's unborn child as payment for the power to defeat the dark witch." My eyes slid to him, noticed his jaw clench. "The witch used her last breath to dry up my mother's womb – I will have no more sisters, and no brothers at all because of what happened that day…."_

_"I'm sorry for the family you were cheated out of having," he said, leaning over and reaching across the expanse to rest a hand on my arm. "He should have found another way to defeat her. Your brother or sister's life wasn't his to barter with."_

_"There was no other way," I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat astride the horse as the many voices of the demon once again enticed me to kill Tamlin for the strength the creature would give me in return – Tamlin's strength. "Now you know the truth about dark witches and the power they serve – don't ever come back to this place. It will eat into your mind until you do terribly wicked things to please the creature of the Devil's Bridge…."_

A knock on the front door startled me from my dream before the rest of the trip with Tamlin to the Devil's Bridge played out safely in my mind. Another more impatient knock drew a low growl from deep within my throat as I tried to recall how Tamlin ended up injured and the horse he'd been riding slaughtered on the ground. Raking my hand through my hair, I hung my feet over the side of the bed and stood on shaky legs. With a mere thought I shed my nightclothes, exchanging them for black pants and black tunic then went to answer the door, muttering curses to whomever chose the middle of the night to pay a visit.

"It's customary," Tamlin said the moment I opened the door, "to ask the High Lord of any Court for permission to stay on his lands before bedding down for the night." He looked me up and down. "You look terrible – bad day?"

"I've had better," I admitted, stepping outside and shutting the door behind me to keep him away from the witch. "I've been thinking a helluva lot about the past lately…do you remember how you got injured at the Devil's Bridge?"

He considered the question for several long moments then shook his head and shrugged. "It was a long time ago, Rhysand. I haven't thought about that day in at least a hundred years if not longer." He touched his fingers to his forehead, and sighed. "I remember that you dragged me up onto your horse, and we raced away from that place." He shrugged again. "That's all I remember of that day."

"You were unconscious for three days afterwards with a raging fever – my mother thought you were going to die. You have to remember something. Did the demon under the bridge speak to you?"

"I don't think so." Leaning against the railing, he looked me over again. "Why are you here, Rhys?"

"I wanted to see for myself how the training of your new sentries is coming along." The half-truth came much easier than admitting that Feyre urged me to visit him in hopes of ending the melancholy mood I'd been in the past few weeks. "You haven't met with any other High Lords yet?" I phased it as a question even though I already knew the answer.

"I don't know why that surprises you." He moved to take a seat on the wooden stairs to look out at the first signs of dawn lighting the edge of the sky with beautiful shades of tangerine, red and pink. It wasn't the middle of the night as I'd assumed, it was nearly morning. I'd slept longer than I thought, much longer than I had in weeks. "Why would any High Lord want to meet with the most hated High Lord in the history of Prythian?"

"So you're giving up on the diplomatic route then?" I said as I took a seat beside him. "You have to give Lucien time to convince them that a meeting with you is in their best interest."

"I haven't declared war yet, have I?" Casting a sidelong glance in my direction, he lifted a brow. "Not that I care, but are you all right? You aren't acting like your usual cocky self – is married life not treating you as well as you expected?"

"I love my life with Feyre." The answer was automatic and true to the very deepest depth of my being. "I love her with every breath I take."

"I don't doubt that you do." A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "As I love Brie and the life we are building together, but they are young, Rhys. Not to mention that they lived on the other side of the Wall for most of their lives. They fit in with our people because we have made them fit in, but even if they are High Fae, they are not like us. Maybe in a hundred years or so they will understand the complexities of living such a long life, but for now to them everything is still new and fresh. They have lived hard lives, there is no denying that, yet their combine experiences on the human side of the Wall cannot even begin to compare with the things we have seen and somehow lived through."

"I'm losing control over the Court of Nightmares and the Illyrian forces," I said after a weighty pause, the first time I'd spoken those words aloud to anyone including Cassian and Azriel. "They once followed my commands out of fear of what the cruel High Lord of Night might do to them if they disobeyed. They've seen with their own eyes that I'm not the male I've pretended to be, and the truth is I don't want to be that male any longer – I don't want to have to pretend to be something I'm not to keep my Court from destroying itself from within…Velaris is my dream and it is prime to fall because it has no defenses other than those provide by the Illyrians. In my utter dark arrogance, I never envisioned a world where I wasn't feared enough to keep my people safe."

"You never wanted to be like your father – never wanted to rule by fear, and yet somewhere along the lines, you decided it was the only way…there is always another way, Rhys." He waved a hand around at the quiet sleeping village. "I've lost everything. The good friends I once had now are leery in my presence, and every damn day it takes a conscious effort on my part not to lash out at them in anger over what I lost. For my people, for my Court, I am finding another way to rule." He shifted on the stairs to face me. "You can't rise if you've never fallen, Rhys. You can never be the male you truly want to be if no one ever challenges the male you are right at this moment. If it happens, don't fail to learn the lesson that took me years to figure out. I am a better male for it, and you will be as well."

"Our answer to the civil unrest in Illyria was to fuel the flames by ordering the warriors to allow the females to train along with the males," I laughed bitterly at how those orders failed to win us any loyalty or praise for our efforts within the camps. "What we failed to take into consideration was many of the females didn't want to train to be warriors in their own right. And those that do balk at the idea that they are still expected to do every job they had done before as well as training."

"Your problem is that you are a warrior, and it's coloring the decisions you make for all the people of Illyria. In your arrogant belief that every other job or task performed on a daily basis within their camps is so far beneath the glory of being a warrior, you are insulting those who feed and clothe and keep the camps a habitable place to live. Without those laborers you look down upon, sickness and death would spread through their homes, and I promise you the Black Veil of Death will not pass over any male just because he has warrior blood rushing through his veins." He let loose a heavy breath. "Give them a voice in the living of their lives instead of force-feeding them the same garbage over and over again that they are never going to be good enough just as they are."

"Do you still have nightmares of Feyre dying by my hand?" I asked to change the subject even though he made a valid point. Maybe Feyre and Mor could speak to the females of each camp to learn what they truly wanted out of the lives they'd been given.

"No." He shook his head and grinned. "Brie worked her way through that spell, unraveling it and cutting it away – for some reason she didn't like sharing her place in my dreams with another female…even if the female in question hates the sight of me." I laughed, and yet it faded all too quickly as the image flashed through my mind of my mother tending to his wounds while he lay deathly still in bed. Before I could ask again how he'd gotten injured that day, he pushed up off the stairs, and brushed the dust off the back of his tan buckskin pants. "My mate loves my handsome face just as it is so I should take my leave before we both remember that we aren't truly friends and come to blows."

"This wasn't so bad, was it?" I said as I stood, glancing toward the doorway and the dark witch hidden within the cottage. The shield I'd quickly constructed around the cottage held firm, keeping her presence a secret for the time being. "At the very least it was a good start toward an alliance between our two courts."

"It sounds as if you have more pressing matters than forming an alliance with the Spring Court." He looked toward where the manor was located hidden from view by the sprawling forest and the hills beyond it, and I wondered if he was talking to Brie through their shared mate bond. "I don't expect things to ever be the same between us as they once were – too much has happened, too many things said and done in anger, but it was nice having a conversation with you that didn't involve throwing insults at each other or threats of violence."

"It'll take time and effort on both our parts, but we'll get there, Tam."

A promise, one he answered with a curt nod and a ghost of a smile. I watched him walk away and into the woods before I headed back inside the cottage and made a beeline to the room where the witch was being kept until I figured what to do about her. With a mere thought, faelight lit up every inch of the small but comfortable bedroom, and immediately she covered her head with her arms, curling inward upon herself as if the light hurt her. Depending on how strong her ties to the darkness were, it likely did.

"You were in my dreams!" I growled, crossing the room in several long strides to tower over her. It was no mere coincidence that I dreamed about the Devil's Bridge on the same night Lucien and Lilianna found her and brought her to me. "If you think I won't kill –" Her head jerked up, the movement she made to tilt it to the side – unnatural, hazel eyes wide peering into mine, looking for an in as she had done to Azriel. A macabre, bone-chilling smile pulling at the golden threads laced through her skin above and below her lips, she slowly shook her head back and forth, back and forth, and I could swear I heard her laughter in my head. Another shield slammed down into place in my mind, stronger than the first, sealing tight around the vital functions of my brain and the memories stored therein. "You can tell your Dark Lord I don't give a fuck what happened that day at the Devil's Bridge! I took nothing from him and gave nothing in return!"

She bobbed her head toward the hardwood floor between us, and one by one blackened letters formed, the pungent scent of sulfur rising into the air along with thick black smoke.

_THEN WHY ARE YOU TREMBLING?_

Whether the message came from her or her master, I couldn't be certain, but either way it rattled me – forced me to question why I had blocked out the memory of how Tamlin got injured that long ago day at the Devil's Bridge. "I'm not some weak-minded Fae you can frighten with your tricks, witch. I am the most powerful High –"

The words vanished in a burst of flames only to be replaced by an ominous threat against what I cherished most.

_WHAT IS MADE CAN BE UNMADE, HIGH LORD…._

I wouldn't say her name, not even as sweat beaded and dripped down the nape of my neck. If she was fishing for my mate's name, she wouldn't hear from me – not ever. To end this witch's life, I would offer up myself as a sacrifice to the fiery, many voiced demon before I ever chose someone I loved to die.

_HIM OR YOU…YOUR DEBT IS DUE…._

"Rhys?" Azriel's voice from directly behind me, startled me, and I jumped. Not the action of a powerful High Lord, and as I turned to face him, his hazel eyes narrowed on me. "What's wrong, Rhysand?" When I didn't respond, he glanced around me at the witch who was now moaning softly on the ground. His eyes slid back to me, and with a low growl rumbling in his throat, he clamped a hand tight around my wrist, dragged me out of the bedroom, through the living room, and outside the cottage. "If I'd known you were going to beat the hell out of her, I never would –"

"Wh-what – no, I didn't touch her!" I snapped, jerking my hand free of his grasp. "I didn't! Whatever you thought you saw, it was lie she conjured up. Even bound, she is powerful, Az. You can't believe anything you see or hear in her presence."

"Then why are your hands bruised?" he uttered, surprising me as he never before question the validity of anything I told him. He trusted me as I trusted him, and yet he seemed so convinced, I glanced down at my hands to find them perfectly normal. Not a single bruise. "She's a defenseless –" The crack across his face came too swiftly for him to react, and blinking hard several times, his brows pulled together in confusion. "H-how did I get here, Rhys?" His stammering uncertainty coupled with the interaction I'd just had with the witch, sent a chill racing up and down my spine. "I-I don't remember leaving Gretchner's camp…I don't." He shook his head, sable hair falling into his eyes. "What happened?"

"It was the witch." Raking a hand through my hair, I looked him over carefully for any injuries the witch might have inflicted upon him. Not finding any, I let loose a sigh of relief. "We need to find someone immune to her powers to stay at the cottage until we find a way to kill her."

Concern etched into every line and contour of his rugged face. "You're not immune?"

"When I spoke to her, I saw things that weren't real – read lies burnt into the floor that were meant to make me doubt myself."

"You said that the small shred of honor she has within her will keep her from harming Lucien – he should take responsibility for the witch until we find a way to end her life without anyone we love dying along with her."

I considered his suggestion, weighing the risks of having Lucien watch her against the pure devastation either Azriel or I could bring about if under a spell, and nodded. "I'll speak to him as soon as possible."


	5. Chapter 5

**thanks for reading! **

Chapter Five

_Tamlin_

As I walked back to the manor, my mind slowly traced over every word Rhysand said, filling in the blanks of what was left unsaid. Stripped of his cocky outer shell, it was clear he didn't have everything in life figure out any more than I did. Without the fear his immense power instilled within those who might otherwise challenge his absolute authority, the home he loved almost as much as his mate was left ripe for destruction.

They, Feyre and Rhysand, lived in a happy little bubble of smiling faces and warm greetings, never once questioning the false perfection of lives. They wanted to be loved, but they also wanted to be feared, if not they never would have gone to such great lengths to constantly remind everyone how powerful they were. When the dam finally broke, stressed by years and years of glaring cracks in the very foundation of his court – the vast difference in lives of those they loved compared to those they tolerated out of necessity, the utter devastation would far exceed any damage done to the Spring Court by Feyre and Hybern.

What he failed to see, what no one dared to point out to him, was that instead of being equals as they should have been, he'd raised Feyre so far up upon a pedestal, it left him looking small and insignificant by comparison – a pet eager to do its master's bidding. I often wondered if he feared saying no to her – even in the very best of relationships, the ones that grew and flourished throughout the ages, there needed to be boundaries; there needed to be times when one person did not always overrule the other. In his blind eagerness not to be anything like me, the person she hated above all others, he lost the spark of greatness he once possessed, and he had no one to blame but himself.

At the memorial for those who had died due to the war with Hybern, I came to the conclusion that Feyre would never change. She was who she was. There would never come a time when she didn't see herself first as a victim of a cruel High Lord – and secondly as a self-sacrificing hero who had worked tirelessly to win the war all by herself. That was the point I was trying to get across to Rhysand during our conversation at the cottage. Even by human standards she would be considered young. Not yet tested, not yet humbled in a way that changed a person to their very core. She never tried to look beyond her own point of view on any matter, never tried to see the shades of gray most of the world lived in day by day. No one could be right all the time, and yet Rhysand allowed her to live in the deluded fantasy that she was somehow above the complete and utter messes most of us made with our lives on a daily basis.

I pitied her – I pitied him more. Someday she would fall from the pretty pedestal of hers – or Cauldron forbid, he would prove himself to be as fucked up as the rest of us lesser beings, not the sparkly glowing hero she always painted him to be, and they would have to face the glaring truth that no one is perfect. Even between mates, even between those who love each other fiercely, there is conflict. Brie and I navigated the treacherous waters of conflict on a weekly basis. It didn't mean we loved each other any less than they did – it meant that we were honest with each other.

In those heated moments of an argument, when you're so damn angry that you say things you might not otherwise say, if you can still look into the person's eyes and love them unconditionally and they feel the same way, it makes the relationship stronger. I might have been a little over five hundred years old, but it was still a lesson I hadn't learned until I met my mate.

And that was how I found her when I entered the manor and made my way to the kitchen. "Still angry?" I asked, coming up behind her and wrapping my arms around her stomach as she worked to make scrambled eggs for breakfast.

"You don't live in a barn, Tam, and I am not your mother," she said as she stirred the eggs around in the pan. "Leave your clothes and boots strewn about the bedroom again, and I'll build a huge bonfire in the backyard and burn them."

Although she did trip over my boots on the way to the bathroom earlier in the morning, she wasn't angry about the clothes. It was the argument that followed that gave her reason to bring up the clothes I'd thoughtlessly thrown on the floor the night before. "You were right," I said, and felt the tension ease from her body. "Old habits die hard, love. When I sensed his presence on my lands, it brought back all the memories of how truly despicable he could be."

"You were both horrible to each other," she reminded, not letting me off the hook for my part in the feud between myself and Rhysand. "I won't sugar-coated it for you, Tamlin. I won't place blame squarely at his feet when you never even tried to mend your lost friendship with him." Turning the sizzling bacon in the pan, she added, "No, you were every bit as much to blame for everything that happened between the two of you. You taunted him like he taunted you, bullying each other for centuries like small children on a playground." She shifted to face me, arms circling my neck. "He took the first step towards reconciliation – he helped to save you from Clarissa and her army." I winced at her name, recoiling as if mention of the mortal queen could somehow bring her back to life. Pressing up on her heels she brushed her lips against mine. "She's gone, Tamlin. You are home, and I promise you she will never hurt you again."

"I keep thinking that I'm over it – that she doesn't hold any power over me anymore, but then I hear her name, and I'm right back there in her castle being tortured for her amusement…I don't want to live the rest of my life this way."

"You won't," she whispered, framing my face in her delicate hands. "It'll take time, but there will come a day when she no longer invades your thoughts. You haven't given up, you are fighting every day to make Prythian a better place for everyone, and that shows the depths of your strength – it shows that you would not and could not be broken. It'll take that same resolve to mend your friendship with Rhysand. You shared with me the memories of the past with him, and it's worth fighting for. Don't let your pride get in the way of making every effort to regain his friendship."

"You called me a pompous asshole earlier," I reminded her, and she grinned. "I take offense to that. While I'll agree that I am sometimes a complete asshole, I am not now nor have I ever been pompous."

"Oh, you are pompous, m'lord," she giggled, winking at me. "I have seen your memories of how you believed that all the women swooned whenever you walked into a tavern. I fear you would not have given me the time of day in your younger years, passing me over for prettier girls with heaving breasts."

"Your breasts heave just fine – I like the way they heave," I said, eyes drawn downward to the hint of cleavage exposed in her deep blue dress.

"Is that your idea of a compliment, m'lord?" Lifting a brow, she pressed her hands against my chest, and gently pushed me away from her. "If so, I will have to make it my mission in life to find a book on the proper way to compliment a lady for you."

"What if I said you are the most beautiful female – woman, I've ever met," I murmured, pulling her back into my arms to capture her lips in a lingering kiss. "Am I forgiven?"

"Always," she whispered, her lips finding mine again.

XxXxXxXx

Lucien had been avoiding me all day, something I might have overlooked if he hadn't made it completely obvious when he caught sight of me heading toward the barn, and quickly galloped away on one of the gray stallions I owned. He heard me call out to him – he always heard more than he let on to everyone, leaving me no other option but to chase after him. Thankfully, my stallion was much faster than his, eating up the distance separating us from my late start. Coming up alongside him, I snatched the reins out of his hand, and slowed both stallions to a stop.

"Why are you hiding from me?" I asked the guilty expression on his face, all I needed to see to know I was right. "More rejections from the other High Lords?"

His golden eye whirled and clicked, russet eye finding the lush green grass highly interesting. Whatever he said next would be a lie and I needed to decide if I'd let it slide or press for the truth. "It's like we thought, Tamlin. Those who don't outright object to a meeting are hesitant to give you an audience. I'm not giving up, but it could take much longer than we hoped to speak to the High Lords on the lesser faeries behalf."

"What aren't you telling me?" I said, the reins of his stallion falling loose from my hand. "You promised you wouldn't keep anything from me anymore, Lucien. If we're going to rebuild the trust we lost in each other, it needs to start somewhere. If something is wrong, I need you to tell me what it is."

Shifting uncomfortable in the saddle, he let out a heavy sigh. "Lili and I were traveling through the Autumn Court last night, and we saved this female from one of my father's advisors."

"Did you bring her to stay here under my protection?"

He rubbed at the nape of his neck, a sure sign I wouldn't like whatever he said next. "Turns out, she's a dark witch." My expression darkened, brows pulling together. "Rhysand promised he'd handle it, but this morning he asked me to keep an eye on her."

"You're certain she's a dark witch?" I said, silently cursing Rhysand for keeping her presence a secret from me.

"How would I know if she was a witch or not? I've never come across one, and she seemed like a normal Fae to me. I wouldn't have brought her to your lands if I thought differently."

"Take my horse back to the stable." Without giving him a chance to respond, I winnowed to the cottage where Rhysand was staying, and pounded on the door until he answered. "Is there something you forgot to mention to me this morning when I stopped by?" I gritted out, chest tightening as I looked around him into the living room of the cottage. "A dark witch, Rhys!? There's a dark fucking witch on my lands, and you didn't think I needed to know about it?"

"I'm handling it," he said, stepping outside and quickly shutting the door behind him. "Lucien told you." It wasn't a question, and for some unexplainable reason he seemed disappointed that Lucien betrayed his trust. "Give me a few days – a week at most, and she'll be gone."

"How?" I huffed, throwing my arms out wide. "As I clearly recall, your father had to offer up someone he loved for the power to kill a dark witch – which one of your friends is going to have to die to end her life? Have you thought that far ahead or will you decide when the time comes?"

"I'm trying to find another way," he whispered, glancing back over his shoulder as if he feared she could hear him.

"You told me there wasn't any other way to kill a dark witch. That was the whole point of taking me to the Devil's Bridge when we were younger. I didn't realize it at the time, but you wanted me to know the high cost of killing a dark witch so I would have the same kind of fear of them as I see clearly in your eyes right now."

"I'm not afraid of anything, Tamlin," he gritted out, hands balling into tight fists.

"Right." Lips pursed, I gave a curt nod. "Of course you're not afraid. Why would you be? You only have to choose one of your friends to die – nothing to worry about there. Will it be Cass or Azriel tripping over themselves to make the supreme sacrifice for you?"

"If it came to that, if I had no other choice, it would be me, and I would drag her down to hell along with me." His shoulders sagged, and he made a conscious effort to pull them back, lifting his head to look me square in the eye. "When he is old enough, my son will take my place as High Lord of the Night Court, and until that time comes Feyre would rule as High Lady."

"You've got it all figured out, don't you?" Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. "But what you've failed to realize is that the real torture of bargaining with the creature beneath the bridge is living with what you've done. He will not let you sacrifice yourself to save – anyone. In the end you will have to choose, and it will crush you."

"Then what do you suggest I do instead?"

"I don't know." I shrugged a shoulder, no more certain of what could be done to stop a dark witch than he was. "I would need time to consider every possible solution before I jumped to the only one that requires the death of someone I loved."

"Even bound by the spell embedded into her skin, she's powerful," he said, a slight but unmistakable tremor in his voice, and that more than anything, set me on edge.

"So. Are. You," I said, stressing each word for emphasis. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined the day would come when I needed to bolster his normally over-inflated ego and belief in his own power and abilities. "I don't know what she did – how she got under your skin, but I do know that whatever happened to shake your confidence in yourself, it's a lie." I caught his eye, and grinned. "You are, after all, the most powerful blah, blah, blah…you get my point, and there's the cocky smile that's been missing since you arrived."

"For a second there, you kinda sounded like the Tamlin I once knew a long time ago." His eyes strayed to the door again, and drawing in a deep breath, slowly exhaling through slightly parted lips, he nodded. "The witch wrote that what was Made could be Unmade. The truth of those words hit me much harder than I thought they did."

"That would require tearing out the seven kernels of life each High Lord bestowed upon Feyre." Scratching at my jaw, I contemplated the extreme difficulty of removing just one kernel of life given to her, seven would be near impossible. If it could be done with ease, Beron would have snatched back what he'd inadvertently given her a long time ago as would several others, myself included. Every day she benefited from the gifts of life I'd bestowed upon her and Rhysand all-the-while cursing me for every hardship she endured. "Do you ever wonder what would have happened if Feyre gave you her real name instead of Clare's?"

"Don't go there, Tamlin," he warned, regaining some of the spark the witch knocked out of him. The truth would always remain that Clare Beddor and her family died due to the simple fact that Feyre lied when he asked her name, and he offered up the poor girl as a sacrifice to save Feyre. Yet there was plenty of blame to share. "We have a real chance to rekindle the friendship we once shared, don't ruin it by dwelling on the past."

"That's easy for you to say," I said, unwilling to back down or change the subject to appease him. "Dissecting memories of the things that led to my downfall was all I had left when I returned from the war. Then there was you stopping by occasionally to rub my nose in all my mistakes, but have you ever once considered the part you played that could have easily ended in the death of Feyre's family if she gave you her true name that day you came to the Spring Court?" Before he could responded, as a growl rumbled in his throat, I added, "If I didn't believe to the very depths of my soul that you do feel remorse for what happened to her and her family, I wouldn't even bother to bring it up. What would be the point? You'd deny any wrongdoing or worse still you'd claim you had to stand by day after day for a week watching her being tortured to protect Feyre."

"She didn't feel any pain – I made sure that she wouldn't suffer…."

"Well, good for you, Rhys. You showed compassion for an innocent child." I tapped at my temple, and shook my head. "But you and I intimately know the difference between physical pain and the damage those days up on the rack did to her mind before she died. She watched her parents and family die and then was brought Under the Mountain to be tortured – she was awake for every bit of it, Amarantha made sure of that. So unless you shielded her mind, sending her to wander through the happy land of lollipops and rainbows, you harmed that girl beyond repair before she died, and you need to unconditionally admit what you did was wrong. No excuses, no grand talk of making sure she didn't suffer physically – you weren't the hero in her life story, so just admit what you did aloud and start learning how to forgive yourself instead of always pointing a finger at me as the bad guy. I'm not the same male I was after the war anymore, and I refuse to carry the burden and blame for every bad thing that ever happened any longer."

"There hasn't been a day that's gone by that I haven't thought about her," he admitted after a lengthy pause, his hand gripping tight on the railing of the porch as his violet eyes turned watery. "I would rank her death up there as one of the very worst things I've ever done, and there is no forgiveness – no absolution for me in admitting what I did as it changes nothing. It will not bring her back or spare the lives of her family, but I-I am sorrier than you will ever know that I was personally responsible for their deaths."

I weighed his words and the depth of sadness in his tone, and believed her death would be a burden he would carry with him the rest of his days. "Come with me." Not giving him a chance to argue, I caught hold of his arm and winnowed to the Spring Night Memorial Park, not to the memorial itself, but to the beautiful butterfly garden in a quiet nook of the park. A wrought iron fence with ivy cascading over the top of each spindle and finial surrounded the garden and reflecting pool within. I bobbed my head at the ornamental plaque adhered to the gate for him to read.

"Clare's Sanctuary," he whispered huskily. "Blessed are the children for they are the hope of the future…thank you, Clare, for the life you gave to save us all. Always in our hearts, never far from mind, rest easy in the comfort of knowing your sacrifice was not in vain…."

"I often come here to sit and think," I said, pushing open the gate and motioning for him to enter first. Two monarch butterflies fluttered past him, several more in various shades of blue and purples resting perched on the fragrant flowers near the pool. It was everything I had hoped it would be when Lucien and I created it for her. "I may have said I didn't know her, but that doesn't absolve me of her brutal death. I was born to protect the innocent, and I did nothing as she was being tortured in front of my eyes. That shouldn't have taken me as long as it did to figure out – I wanted the blame to fall squarely on your shoulders. It doesn't. The blame belongs equally to everyone who stood by watching her die and did nothing."

"It's beautiful, Tamlin," he whispered, stopping along the path to admire the statue of Clare I'd created from memory with her hand outstretched holding a butterfly in her palm. "You've changed so much in the past year while I am still the same male I've always been."

"I would argue that I haven't changed at all," I said with a faint smile, taking a seat on the marble bench opposite the statue. "I'm just finding my way back to the male I once was before the deaths of our families. I liked who I was back then. I may not have had everything all figured out, but I was happy – I deserve to be happy, Rhys."

"Your happiness will be short-lived if you declare war on all of Prythian," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me before refocusing his attention on the bronze statue. "Why does this have to be your fight? You found your mate, and together you are working to rebuild your court. Why isn't that enough for you?"

"No one spoke up when Clare was dying," I said, pausing to gather my thoughts. "In a throne room full of High Fae, not one person did anything to help her. She needed us to save her, and we turned our backs on her or lowered our heads in shame instead of fighting for the weakest amongst us. We were cowards during those days while she slowly died. If we continue to turn our backs on those in desperate need of our help a second time, I believe to the very depths of my marrow that we don't deserve to be High Lords."

He turned away from the statue to face me. "You think I'm a coward for not joining this fight with you."

"I'm disappointed, but you have your unborn child to consider. If I was in your position I would do the same."

"Do you want children?"

My eyes narrowed on the far corner of the butterfly garden where another smaller statue resided – the only proof I had that my unborn child ever existed. "You mean other than the son I lost?"

"Clarissa wasn't pregnant, Tam," he said, taking a seat beside me. To his credit, it sounded as if he truly believed she wasn't carrying my child, but I knew with every fiber of my being that it wasn't a lie. "If you need to see the autopsy report or speak to the healer who examined the body for conformation, I can arrange it."

"No, you're right." Better to believe the lie than to reopen the wound. "She wasn't pregnant." I pushed up off the bench. "You can stay a while. I'll watch the witch for you."

"Have you thought any more about that day at the Devil's Bridge?" he asked as I started to walk away.

Truthfully I hadn't given it another thought after I left the cottage, and didn't see the point in rehashing that day just to settle his curiosity, but for whatever reason he wouldn't let it go. "There was a blackened, arched bridge, and as I recall there was some kind of throne." I shrugged. "Whatever happened that day was burned from my memory by the fever. However, if you're wondering – yes, I still have the scars, but I have no idea how I got injured. All I know for certain is that if you hadn't been there, I would have died that day."

"Don't you think it's odd that we both have forgotten what really happened to you that day? Yes, you were injured, but I wasn't. I should be able to recall what kind of creature attacked you, but the memory is gone."

"As I said before, it was a very long time ago, and memories fade away to nothing if you don't ever think about them. Whatever's bothering you – let it go. You, as always seems to be the case, were the hero that day."

I winnowed back to the cottage before he could ask me anything more about the Devil's Bridge, and headed inside to see for myself how dangerous the witch was and what kind of threat she might pose to the Fae of the Spring Court. When I found her huddled in a corner of one of the bedrooms, long matted hair draped over her face, I couldn't say I was the least bit frightened or intimidated by the maltreated waif. If anything, I pitied her.

Crossing the room, I crouched in front of her, resting my elbows on my knees, hands clasped. "I'm Tamlin," I said, my tone a soft, soothing rumble, and if she could have pushed back any further into the wall, she would have. "Do you need anything?"

She shook her head, and maybe it was a little strange that the movement started out slow and then increased in speed, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, hazel eyes revealed then obscured as her hair shifted with each turn of her head. My gaze trailed downward to her tattooed arms, and eyes widening at the sight of blood leaking down her skin and dripping on the floor, my arm shot out to grasp hold of her wrist to stop her from clawing into her flesh.

"You're freezing," I uttered, a bitter chill working its way up my arm. Shivering, every breath I exhaled turned to white billowy plumes that hung heavy in the arctic air. Her skin felt like ice – as did mine. So focused on her when I entered the bedroom, I failed to notice the ice clinging to the drapes, windows frozen solid. A thick layer of frost covered the floor along with every single piece of furniture. "Did the dark-haired male with violet eyes do this to you?" I gritted out, to keep my teeth from chattering as I ran my fingers along the deep-grooved scratches that were now sealed over with a layer of ice, frozen droplets of blood adhered to her skin. I waited a several long moments before she worked up the courage to nod. Releasing her arm, I straightened to my full height, and went to get a heavy blanket off the bed to wrap around her. "It's going to be okay…I'll take you to the manor where it's warm."

Bending down to scoop her up off the ground, focused solely on the task of getting her away from Rhysand and warming her body before she froze to death, I didn't hear or sense anyone else in the room. One moment I was on my feet, the next I was sprawled out on the floor on my back, my arms pinned over my head, violet eyes peering down at me.

"What did you do, Tamlin!" Rhysand snarled, gripping hold of my face, and with talons digging into my cheeks, he viciously jerked my head from side to side. "Did you touch her? Answer me!"

"You left her to freeze," I rasped, trying to buck him off my chest, to no avail.

"What the hell possessed you to touch her? I warned you – I told you she was dangerous." His hand jerked away from my face only to come down hard on my forehead. "Son of a whore! You're burning up with fever! Let me into your damn mind! Now!"

"Get off of me!" I growled, squirming beneath him. He didn't budge, his eyes focused on the ground in front of the waif.

In those seconds when his eyes landed on me again, panic filled and frenzied, I knew – I knew he'd come unhinged. "Damn it! Hold still so I can heal your wounds before you bleed out on the floor!"

"You have lost your mind," I chuckled weakly, shivering from the frigid temperature meant to kill the waif. My head jerked to the side, pain blossoming at my temple, vision blurring in and out of focus.

"Not again…please, not again…."

Those vague distant last words were the last thing I heard before another blow pushed me into darkness….


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for taking the time to read my story, and a special thanks if you review. I love hearing your thoughts. As always I am just playing in Sara Maas' playground with the wonderful characters she's created ;)

Chapter Six

_Rhysand_

I shouldn't have let Tamlin go back to the cottage alone, when he winnowed away I should have followed him instead of taking a few minutes to collect my thoughts. I didn't stay long, no longer than it took to walk the perimeter of the garden, and yet it was long enough for the witch to work her dark magic on him.

The intense heat burning him up from the inside out brought me right back to the day at the Devil's Bridge. He didn't even feel it – he thought he was freezing. If I hadn't shown up when I did, he would have picked her up and carried her wherever she wanted to go – he would have freed her from the golden thread sewn into her skin to keep her magic locked inside of her. Not that it was working, but at least she wasn't at full-strength.

The scars from that day, long since healed, ripped open before my eyes, blood leaking out to run down his sides and pool on the floor. The warning had been clear, burned into the floor in front of the witch – no, not a warning, a gift. The demon she served tore open his flesh as an offering to me.

_TAKE WHAT IS HIS AND MAKE IT YOURS…._

Tamlin's power and strength, the demon wanted me to have it. The darkest parts of me, those that would always serve the Night, urged me to give in and accept what was offered freely. Feyre wouldn't object, she'd revel in the idea of Tamlin losing his powers to me. Divine justice, that's what she would call it – the Cauldron's way of punishing him for siding with Hybern even if it was only a ruse.

"No…!" I growled as I stared down at my trembling fingers coated with his blood. Although they felt so true in my head, those thoughts weren't mine. Feyre hated Tamlin, that was true and might never change, but she would never joyously condone the outright theft and mutilation of his body to gain more power for myself. "You are not stronger than me, witch! The tricks you play in my mind won't work."

Sending a quick message into Azriel's mind, I hefted Tamlin's unconscious form into my arms and winnowed to the manor to find shadowsinger waiting for me at the oak double doors. "What happened?" he asked, pushing open the doors and following behind me as I headed straight for the grand staircase, taking the steps two at a time in hast to get started on healing Tamlin's wounds. "He's burning up, Rhys. My shadows feel the heat radiating from him."

"He touched the witch and she used that contact to slip past his defenses," I explained, pausing outside the door to the master suite. I hadn't stepped foot inside his parents' bedroom since the night my father killed both of them, and I wasn't eager to do so now. Turning on my heel, I pushed past Azriel and strode to Tamlin's old bedroom, using my power to open the door and spotlessly clean and sterilize the room before we entered.

"This is not his –"

"I won't go in that bedroom," I said, cutting off any other protest he might make. I'd seen the brutality of what my father had done to his mother, how he had carved into her face and viciously gutted her in retaliation for my mother and sister's murders – what he had done to Tamlin's father was well deserved, but she did not deserve to die as she did. "Grief led me to do terrible things that night – I pretended I didn't know what my father was going to do to his mother, it was easier that way. If I didn't know, I couldn't be held responsible – I knew his plan before we even entered the house, but took my time with Tamlin's brothers, giving my father time to murder his mother."

"You were not the only one who knew what your father planned to do," he said as I gently placed Tamlin on the bed, a quiet admission of his own guilt in not trying to stop my father. He and Cassian had been with me when I found the baskets with my mother and sister's heads inside of them, and went with me to tell my father.

"Where's Brie?" I asked, and with a mere thought Tamlin's shirt vanished, revealing the extent of his injuries. The question was expected, but I already knew the answer. Maybe I couldn't break into her mind or Tamlin's – I could, however, shield his injuries from her until they were healed. Better for her not to know he'd been hurt than to have her blame me for his injuires.

"She's in the garden with Elain – it's odd she hasn't yet sensed that her mate is badly injured." As he spoke his narrowed eyes darted back and forth and up and down over the wounds as if piecing them together. He hadn't seen them the first time, my mother hadn't allowed it. She kept him and Cassian out of the room while she worked tirelessly to heal Tamlin and break the fever. Focusing all my energy on healing the gaping wounds, I merely grunted a response. "The wounds – they form a sigil," he added, rushing to the desk near the window to get paper, a quill pen, and a book to write upon.

"Are you sure?" I said, and with hands hovering over the leaking wounds, I glanced up at him, drawing what he saw etched into Tamlin's skin, stretch apart to keep anyone other than the shadowsinger from figuring out what the brutal slashing marks represented.

"I don't know what it means, but I am certain it is a sigil." He moved back to the bed, and quickly drew what he saw in the wounds. "Notice how the blood spills into a very distinctive V shape at his abdomen instead of pooling in a circle." Too preoccupied with cooling his temperature and sealing his injuries, I hadn't noticed, and neither had my mother. He finished the drawing and turned it around for me to look at. An upside down triangle extending below the point of meeting to intersect the V then curling inward toward the letter. Two more lines slashed downward from the top two points of the triangle, intersected then ended outside the first triangle forming a second triangle within the first. "Have you ever seen this sigil before?"

I studied the picture of the sigil, glancing back and forth between the paper and cuts in Tamlin's skin, noting how Azriel extended the interrupted lines in the wounds to create the true picture etched into his skin. "I've never seen it before," I lied, held mesmerized by the image of the sigil hidden in plain view. I had seen it twice before only those times the sigil burned hotter than the sun, its wearer the fiery creature at the Devil's Bridge. "It's not working. We need a healer trained to deal with these kinds of injuries."

"The wounds are fading away to nothing more than faint scars as we speak, Rhys," he murmured, shadows curling around the edges of the paper in his hand. "Your mother –"

"My mother healed him and what good came of it?" I snapped, the paper shredding to pieces in his hands, falling like a winter's snow unto the ground around him. "If he had died, she would still be alive. Every bad thing that has ever happened to us can be traced back to the second his fever broke. Maybe this is a sign that he was meant to die back then and prolonging his life yet again will only serve to bring down hell upon us."

"You don't mean that." He tucked his wings in tight, shadows swirling and dance around and through him. The blue stones in his siphons flared to life when I made no move to continue healing Tamlin. "The same could be said about you, Rhys. You were the one who sought him out in the beginning, befriending him, bringing him into our lives. If you had died in the war when Amarantha held you as her prisoner, his life would be a whole helluva lot different than it is now – as would your mother and sister's lives. They would have lived if you had died as would your father and Tamlin's family." He bobbed his head at Tamlin shifting restlessly as the fever took hold of him. "Heal him…."

"You're right," I rasped after several long moments, staring down at the scattered pieces of paper on the ground. Until I had looked upon the sigil he'd drawn and the one hidden within Tamlin's old scars, I was fully committed to doing whatever was necessary to heal him. Then within a matter of a split second, I wanted him to die – needed him to die. I couldn't tell Azriel that – couldn't admit the sigil held any sort of power over me. I dropped the shield around Tamlin's injuries, and as expected Brie rushed into the bedroom in a blur of motion, pushing Azriel aside to get to her mate. "I've healed the wounds, but I'm going to need your help with the fever," I whispered as she took a seat beside him on the bed, and grasped hold of his hand. "And your help as well, Az."

"H-he's burning up," Brie stammered, resting her free hand on his forehead. He jerked away from her as if the light touch of his mate caused him pain. "What happened to him?"

"Your mother used ice when the fever wouldn't let go," Azriel interrupted, saving me from having to explain about the witch. "Should I send for some?"

"If the three of us cannot heal him, I'll go to the Winter Court and retrieve it myself," I promised, holding Brie's gaze. "I promise you I won't let him die, Brie."

We worked late into the night to rid Tamlin of the fever, Lucien and Lilianna lending their healing skills as our powers began to wane. Several times Tamlin's fever-bright eyes locked on me, and then he would mumble incoherently. Maybe the others failed to notice, but not Lucien. His metal eye clicked and whirled, assessing every look that passed between us, finding guilt in every word I left unsaid. At every cry of pain from whatever held him locked within the fever, Lucien would glare at me as if I had personally caused his best friend to suffer.

When our combine efforts failed to break the fever, I sent word to Cassian, and near dawn he arrived with a heavy bundle of ice and a bottle of medicine made especially to combat high fevers, the latter spilled down the sides of his face as he thrashed in bed, not a drop slipping down his throat.

"Cover him with the blankets," I ordered my tone rough and weary.

As Brie and Lilianna hurried to do as I asked, I shattered the ice with my dwindling power, and one by one we set the pieces on top of Tamlin. As it melted, the cold water seeped into the thin blanket, cooling his skin and thereby bringing down his fever. When her healing abilities failed, my mother came up with the idea, and even now after centuries had passed, I could still hear the sound of the Illyrian's scoffing at her for her ingenuity. Bone-weary, I stood back to watch and wait for some sign that the worst was over and he would recover. Brie whispered softly to him as she pressed a cool compress to his head, reminding him of all he still needed to accomplish. She hadn't blamed me yet, but as soon as he was out of danger I fully expected an earful from her. In her place, Feyre would have shredded Tamlin without giving him a chance to explain, and I deserved no less than that for imprisoning a dark witch on his lands.

She caught my eye and nodded, her way of saying the fever had broken, and mouthed the words '_thank you' _as if I'd done something heroic in helping fix the mess I'd made of things.

Lucien wasn't as forgiving, following me outside the manor a half hour later. Catching hold of my arm, he swung me around to face him. His fist connected with my jaw, knocking me backward several steps. "What did you do!?" he growled, narrowing his russet eye on me as the golden one whirled. "Maybe no one else understood what he said, but I did. In his delirium he was begging you to stop – he kept reminding you that the two of you were friends as he pleaded with you to stop…what did he mean by that?"

"I don't know," I answered truthfully, cupping my chin in my hand and moving my lower jaw back and forth, the bones near my pointed ears clicking against each other. "You said it yourself, he was delirious. For all I know he could have been talking about Feyre." He wasn't talking about Feyre. Somewhere deeply buried within the furthest niches of his mind, he remembered what happened at the Devil's Bridge – what he believed I'd done to him that day. Somehow I needed to make him remember what happened that day before I had to face the demon under the bridge again. "You know how crazed he was when he thought I was keeping Feyre at the Night Court against her will. It makes sense that he would lash out at me as the cause of his suffering."

"I must have the word _gullible _tattooed in Illyrian ink across my forehead." He rubbed at his forehead then looked at his hand before showing his palm to me. "Oh, look at that, I don't because I'm not. He was calling you his friend and the two of you haven't been friends in a very long time. Try again and this time you need to remember that you're dealing with someone who's a helluva lot smarter than you."

"Careful, Lucien," I warned, feeling worn thin and stretched beyond my limits. "You may be Feyre's friend, but –"

"I'm not afraid of you, Rhysand," he cut in, glancing over his shoulder at the manor, likely seeing through the walls of the upstairs bedroom to where Tamlin lay recovering in bed. His attention returned to me. "Your threats are just that – threats. You have never once followed through on any of your threats making them meaningless and inconsequential." He smiled. "I'm sorry, that last word had more than two syllables – do you need me to tell you what it means?"

"I didn't do anything to Tamlin," I gritted out, and in that moment I wanted to beat the hell out of him, I wanted my words not to be just threats but a promise of the pain that would come if he pushed me any further. "Yes, I tormented him for what I believed he did to my mother and sister, but I never laid a hand on him – not while we were friends or enemies. If you don't believe me ask him yourself." Done with defending myself when I'd done everything within my power to heal Tamlin, I pushed past him to head back to the cottage, calling over my shoulder, "Be at the cottage tonight to take your turn watching the witch." I'd used enough of my power to keep her trapped within the cottage while we were taking busy caring for Tamlin, and truthfully I wanted to go home to see Feyre even if it was only for one night. "Don't make me come looking for you."

That said I winnowed to the cottage to confront the witch once more. I found her curled up in the bed sound asleep. I shook her, shouted at the top of my voice, poured cold water on her – nothing worked to wake her from her slumber. Her master must have sent her into a deep sleep, and she wouldn't rise until he commanded it of her. I should have been angry, wanting the confrontation over and done with, but the truth was that I was exhausted as well.

Quickly washing up, I closed the curtains in the bedroom I claimed as my own, and flopped into bed, and thankfully sleep found me with minutes.

_"Hunting, Tam?"I said as he handed me a bow and a quiver of arrows. "I thought you said we were going to do something fun?"_

_"We've been friends for a while now, and it struck me the other day that you don't have a single hobby. Your whole life consists solely of training for wars and battles that have yet to materialize – there has to be more to life than just being a warrior," he said, slinging a quiver full of arrows over his shoulder, and motioning for me to follow him outside the manor. With his father and brothers away on business and his mother busy entertaining guests from the village where she'd grown up, I didn't have to worry about running into any of them. Although his mother seemed pleasant enough, the rest of his family made no attempt to hide their dislike of me or my friendship with Tamlin. "Do you have any other interests besides training day in and day out?"_

_"I do enjoy bedding females." I smirked as he rolled his eyes. "Seriously, if I could spend the rest of my days fucking beautiful females, I'd give up being an Illyrian warrior altogether."_

_"This coming from the male who calls me a whore on a regular basis," he said, winnowing into the woods before I could respond._

_I followed, appearing beside him a moment later. "Can I help it if you sleep with more females than all the Illyrian warriors combine?"_

_"Can I help it if the Cauldron blessed me with this face," he waved a hand over his face then his hand swept downward over lean, muscular body, "and this body? It would be a waste if I didn't share the blessings I've been given."_

_"And you call me cocky and conceited," I chuckled._

_"I was mimicking you," he laughed, winking my way, and I threw my head back and laughed, likely scaring away any prey in the area. As our laughter died away, a frown pulled at his lips. "All joking aside, I'm serious, Rhys. You'll regret the life you haven't lived if you spend every moment fighting for whatever honors the Illyrians bestow upon you…there has to be more."He shrugged. "Perhaps being the youngest son and not in line for the title, gives me time to dream of – everything. I want it all, Rhysand. I want to see everything, and be in those moments without having to worry about the Spring Court or whether I'm supposed to like or hate someone because of who they are or where they come from. I want to live my life every day as if it is a gift not to be wasted."_

_"You're young, Tam," I said, starting forward into the cool, shadowed woods, "life will without a doubt brutally beat the dreamer out of you."_

_"The way it did for you?" he said, picking up his pace to keep up with me. "It's not gone – that part of you that you think you've lost. I know the war was hard on you, being captured by Amarantha, what she did to you. If there wasn't still a spark of a dreamer in you, you would never have befriended the fifth son of the High Lord of the Spring Court."_

_"I like fishing," I said after a long moment. "I find it relaxes me in a way nothing else has ever done before or since. Cassian, Az and I used to sneak off early in the morning before training to go fishing in a lake near our camp."_

_"All right, that's a start." He grinned. "Next time you visit we'll go fishing."_

_"Shut up or you'll scare all the deer away," I said, feeling the knot that seemed to be a constant burden in my chest, loosen a bit._

_It didn't last long, walking through the forest for hours with no sign of any creature large or small to hunt, dragged on my last nerve. In truth, I wanted to bring down a stag more than I cared to admit. I wanted Tamlin to see that I could embrace the idea of being at one with nature and not just the darkness of Night._

_It shouldn't have happened – I shouldn't have lost control, not for something as meaningless as two deer finally stepping out into a clearing to take a drink from a pond. One minute they were there – the next, a spray of red mist filled the air._

_"What the fuck!" Tamlin shouted, the bow dropping from his hand. His green eyes widened as he watched the mist spray the ground red. "Fuck…fuck…what the hell did you do?"_

_"I-I misted them," I said, confusion furrowing my brow. I'd never done it before – hadn't even realized I could mist something out of existence._

_"I can see that you misted them," he growled, anger flashing in his eyes even as the color drained from his face. "Promise me you'll never use that power again – promise me! There's a huge difference between having darkness within you and being undeniably evil. Wherever that power came from – it is evil to its very core, and if you use it, I promise you that it will consume you."_

_"I didn't even know I had that ability." A long pause in which he waited for me to promise not to use the very powerful gift I'd been given – a gift that could easily save lives if used in battle. He didn't understand its value, having never been to war he couldn't begin to fathom how beneficial it would be to have the power to mist my enemies. "I promise I'll never use that power again."_

I bolted upright in bed, body trembling and heart hammering in my chest. I'd lied when I said I'd never use that power again. I lied and used that power over and over again throughout the centuries. Leaping out of bed, I stormed into the witch's bedroom to find her sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Hair pushed back out of her face, her eyes were no longer hazel, but solid milky white.

"I wasn't born with the power to mist my enemies – that was from you, wasn't it?"

A slow, hideous smile spread across the witch's face, pulling taut the golden thread sealing her mouth shut. Lifting a hand, she wrote across the air in deep red letters:

_YOU WANTED THE POWER TO DEFEAT YOUR ENEMIES – IT WAS YOUR DEEPEST WISH._

"I never asked you to give me that power!"

Her finger moved quickly across the air, scrawling the demon's reply:

_OH, BUT YOU DID…YOUR DEBT HAS COME DUE, HIGH LORD…._

Whatever debt the demon felt I owed it, I would never pay it. I hadn't asked for the power to mist anyone – I wouldn't. Even without it, I was still the most powerful High Lord in the history of Prythian. "Take it back – I don't want it!"

_IF YOU DO NOT FULFILL YOUR END OF THE BARGAIN, YOU WILL LOSE EVERYTHING…HIM OR YOU – DECIDE!_

"I need time to decide." I needed time to find a way to break whatever bargain the demon felt I'd made with it. "Two months – in two months I will give you my decision."

_ONE MONTH – I AM ONLY GIVING YOU THAT AMOUNT OF TIME TO WATCH YOU SQUIRM, HIGH LORD. DO NOT ASK FOR MORE OR I WILL ASK FOR PAYMENT NOW…._

It was the best I could hope for under the circumstance. "In one month you will have my decision."

Author's note: Of all the powers given to the characters in Sara Maas' wonderful series, the power of Misting that Rhysand possesses is literally the worst. Not only is it the deepest form of evil, blowing someone apart leaving only a bloody mist behind, but he never uses it when it matters. Instead of just misting Amarantha, he comes up with a plan to try to break into her mind, and even though it isn't working, he still doesn't mist the hell out of her and ended up her whore for nearly fifty years. He uses the power at random times, none of which would be considered life threatening, yet never once considers the possibility of using it to eliminate Hybern? It seemed to me in that in ACOWAR he was always too drained or worn out to do much of anything - why not use this incredible dark power for something other than killing meaningless characters? That's just my thoughts...if you have any thoughts on the matter please share them with me...thanks again for reading... :)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

_Azriel_

Rhysand ducked out of Tamlin's old bedroom before I could ask to speak with him in private. I started after him, made it to the door where I was stopped by Cassian. Lucien slipped past us, Lilianna staying behind with Brie while Tamlin slept. With one look, his hazel eyes conveyed the same concerns I kept hidden from Rhysand and Feyre. He nudged his head for me to follow him outside to the rose garden to keep our conversation private.

"Every camp commander I spoke to yesterday said the same thing," he said once I shielded both of us inside a warm blue glow of light. "Their records confirmed there has never been a witch born or raised in any of the camps I visit – and…."

"And?" I said as his voice trailed off, knowing full well what he would say next.

"Rhysand is no longer an Illyrian warrior," he uttered, blowing out a heavy breath. "He can either start over as a grunt or fight to regain his place as an Illyrian warrior in the Searo Trials."

"Without using his powers, he would never win, not with you and me fighting against him." Cursing under my breath, I dragged a hand down my face. "It was the same in every camp I visited. They believe him to be a coward, hiding behind Feyre, and I hate to have to say this, but from their perspective I can see where they would think that way. We, ourselves, have forced warriors to start over for smaller reasons."

"He'll choose to fight," he said, tucking his wings tight behind his back. "He'll stubbornly choose to fight and he'll die, Az. That's how it'll end – that's how it always ends, and that's why those who have fallen from rank always choose to start over instead of risking their lives in the Searo Trials."

"I haven't told him yet," I admitted, a deep ache settling into my chest. "How do I tell my brother he is no longer one of us?"

"He's still one of us," Cassian said, eyes turning watery. He hastily rubbed away the moisture threatening to spill down his cheeks. "Don't ever say he isn't one of us again."

"You know what I mean," I rasped, swallowing hard against the thick knot forming in my throat. "We should have been more vigilant. We should have known when the discord came to an abrupt end within the camps they had come to an agreement on how to humble the High Lord."

"They gave us no reason to suspect they had anything planned."

"That's exactly why we should have suspected something was wrong." My siphons flared with a pulse of power and frustration. "They don't need to invade Velaris to get the point across that he is no longer their leader. It was already spreading through the camps when I left. The next time he sets foot into any one of them, no one will listen to him."

"And if he uses his powers, it'll just confirm their belief that he is weak without them," he finished my thought for me. "They want his leathers brought to them to be burned. It's Illyrian law, Az. We can't refuse – he can't refuse." A long pause, too long, and I knew what would come next, what I'd been considering myself. "What if we turned in our leathers as well? I would feel like a traitor to Rhys and Feyre if I continued to wear them if he couldn't."

"Rhysand wouldn't allow it." It would crush him to see us dressed in the Illyrian leathers he'd always been so proud to wear, but he would bear it with dignity and grace as he had done with so many horrible things for the sake of the Fae of Velaris. "We are his eyes and ears in the Illyrian camps, and he is still High Lord. They can't take that away from him."

"I still say we should tell them to fuck off, and throw our leathers in their faces," he growled, rage burning just below the surface with no way to release it on those who would hurt our brother. "It's not right, Azriel. He died in the war with Hybern to save everyone, and to have them declare him a coward," another growl, "I want to rip them to shreds – I want to tear through their forces, leave them bloody and broken, and burn their leathers with them still inside them."

"You aren't saying anything I am not feeling as well, but Velaris is only as strong as its military force, and without the Illyrians we do not have a military."

He gave a curt nod, fingers clenching and unclenching, the need to hit someone near overwhelming him. "I'll go with you when you tell him."

"How many camps did you visit yesterday?" I said, needing to do something for Rhysand, even if it was only finding information on the witch.

"Every one that was on the list you gave me." Unable to winnow, he must have pushed himself to his limits flying to every camp I asked him to check.

I'd taken the outer camps, working my way inward; never staying in one camp longer than it took to confirm what I already knew about Rhysand, and to scan through their records. "I completed my list as well."

"Then she must not be Illyrian born."

"She is," I said as I set to pacing, considering all the possible reasons why her name wouldn't be recorded when other suspected witches were noted in the records. I even found record of the witch Rhysand's father had bound along with the date of her death. "We're missing something, Cass. None of the pages of their records were torn out or seemed altered?"

"Not that I could tell."

"She could be older than I assumed," I admitted, inwardly chastising myself for not considering it sooner. None the less, I still searched through thousands of names, dating back at least six centuries. "You're certain you looked far enough back in the records."

"Yes, my eyes felt like they had knives jammed in them by the time I was finished. Cause of death was the only notation after each birth record. No mention of any witches."

"And you're certain –"

"Yes," he gritted out, "I checked for any notations about a child being born under a blood moon. Nothing. It was a story made up to frighten the younglings."

It struck me then what I had failed to consider when I made his list and mine. "We didn't check the camp where you were born."

"That's because it's gone – I killed the males who caused my mother's death and burned the place to the ground."

"During the time you lived there did –"

"There was no witch living in that camp," he cut in, siphons gleaming red. "The only evil residing in that camp were the males who raped and tortured my mother until her death. Let it go before we end up in a fight."

"We're you born under a blood moon, Cassian?" I asked, pushing my luck, but it made sense. Gretchner told me witches had a long memory for those who slighted them – that they would raze entire camps to the ground in revenge for what had been done to them. Without saying the words, he was telling me that Cassian was the witch's son. Clever as I had believed that witches could only be females not males. The seven siphons used to control his massive power – power he had gotten from his mother. If he hadn't mentioned burning the camp to the ground, I never would have even considered it possible. "We're you?"

"How would I know what phase the moon was in or its color on the day I was born?"

"You never found her grave…." And that right there was the most damning evidence that the witch was in fact his mother. "You searched and searched but you never found it – could she still be alive, Cass?"

"My mother wasn't a witch," he growled, siphons pulsing as he narrowed his eyes on me. "Be careful about the claims you make against my mother as it will end our friendship."

"You would rather your mother be dead than a witch?

"My mother is dead and she is not a witch."

He launched into the air, flying high and fast away from the Spring Court, away from the truth about the mother he loved and lost at such a young age. If it was true, and I had no reason to doubt it was, we couldn't kill the witch. If we did, we would lose Cassian, and that was something I never wanted to happen. Not only would we lose him, but if Rhysand killed her, he would become our enemy.

Lost in my troubled thoughts I wandered the gardens for the longest time, trying to figure out a way remove his mother's dark powers without harming her. There had to be a way, and yet nothing came to me. Even with her powers bound, her dark magic struck Tamlin down, ripping open old scars and bringing on a fever that could have killed him.

A light tap on my shoulder startled me and I swung to find Elian smiling up at me. "I wasn't going to interrupt you, but you just seemed – I don't know, lost is perhaps the best way to describe it. Are you okay, Azriel?"

My eyes traveled over her, taking in loose dusky rose peasant shirt that seductively slipped off both her shoulders, the thin gauzy material belted at her waist, and the form fitting black pants that ended well above her knees, exposing a good share of her shapely legs, my gaze lingering for a long moment before lowering to her exposed feet. "What are you wearing?" I asked instead of answering her question.

"They call them shorts," she said, slowly twirling around to give me a good view of her ass and the smooth velvety skin of her exposed shoulders causing my own pants to become uncomfortable tight. "Lucien gave them to me to use when I garden. He said they will keep my dresses from being ruined – do you like them?"

"How will any male get his work accomplished with you traipsing around nearly naked?"

She lifted a delicate brow. "Is that a compliment?"

"No, it's a promise that I'm going to string Lucien up by his ears the next time I see him," I uttered, motioning for her to cover her shoulders. "Where are your shoes?"

"Why?" A teasing grin. "Do you fear the wanton display of my painted toenails will drive men wild with desire?"

A curse slipping past my lips, my eyes trailed down her shapely legs once more. I turned my back on her, my hand coming to rest on the hilt of my sword. "It's not proper to look upon a lady when such little material is covering her body."

"You've seen Feyre dressed in much less and haven't complained," she reminded, and circling to face me, she planted her hands on her waist. "Do you prefer I suffer the heat of a warm spring day in yards of fabric, lace and tulle to spare your delicate sensibilities? Yes, Azriel, I have curves and breasts and I will not hide them to save you the discomfort of having to look upon me as a woman. If my clothing offends you, you are free to leave the garden."

"If you ever expressed an interest in wearing pants, I could have found some Illyrian leathers in your size to wear," I grumbled, knowing I wouldn't win this argument.

Feeling as if the discussion of her lack of clothing was settled, she said, "You didn't answer my question. I've been told I'm a good listener, and on occasion I've been known to give good advice. If something is upsetting you, you don't always have to keep it a secret. It's not a weakness to lean on others when you're troubled."

"I'm a shadowsinger – it's my job to keep secrets."

"I see." Grasping hold of my scarred hand, she set to walking through the rose gardens. "Then I'll tell you a secret instead," she added, stopping to lean closer to one of the rose bushes to breathe in its alluring fragrance. "I've never seen such beautiful flowers as the ones that bloom in the Spring Court. I could spend the rest of my life in my garden in Velaris and for all my work it would not equal the splendor of these gardens."

"Your garden is beautiful, everyone says so," I said, not wanting her to get discourage by comparing her garden to the sheer beauty of the eternal spring bloom of Tamlin's court.

"You are missing my point," she said, pulling me forward through the winding grassy path through the garden. "Feyre and Nesta thrive in the darkness of the Night Court. I love them both dearly, but there is darkness within them that no amount of light can reach. It's always been that way. They can be cruel and vicious, and that is not who I am nor is it what I want to be. I've been suffocating in the Night Court for over two years trying to find my place. It's not there and I don't think it ever will be."

"You have made good friends in Velaris, and you have your flower shop," I reminded her, stomach churning at what I knew would come next if I didn't try to put a stop to it. "If there is more you want to do and see, I can take you anywhere you wish to travel."

"No, Feyre has friends and they tolerate me and Nesta for her benefit. Don't get me wrong, Azriel. I like them all…well, Amren is an acquired taste, but it's not the same as when I lived on the mortal side of the Wall. Those who liked me liked me and those who didn't –" She shrugged a shoulder. "This is not the life I saw for myself, but it was the life I was given, and to live it I have to remove myself from the large shadow Feyre creates. Like these roses, I will never survive in the shadows. I need the sunlight and the stark beauty this place represents to thrive. I don't want to hurt Feyre's feelings, but I'm an adult and I have to do what's right for me."

The deep gnawing ache in my chest that started with my conversation with Cassian intensified, making it hard to breathe. "What about me – isn't our friendship important enough to you to stay in Velaris?"

"It is more important to me than you'll ever know," she whispered, pressing up on her toes to brush a kiss against my cheek. "But you don't let me in, Azriel. Believe me, I understand why – you see yourselves as this close-knit loving family, but at its very core the Inner Circle is horribly dysfunctional. None of you speak to each other about anything important – it's all surface level nonsense. Sure you would fight to the death for each other, yet when it comes to a conversation about feelings and sexuality you bury it deep within yourselves. You were in love with Mor for centuries, something she knew well, but instead of being honest with you about her feelings for other women, she slept around with countless men. That had to hurt like hell, and yet you'd never know it. She is free to love whomever she chooses, but not to tell you how she felt, constitutes a betrayal of everything the Inner Circle was supposed to stand for, and to say she was afraid to tell any of you is symptomatic of the utter dysfunction of your family."

"You don't understand –"

"You're right," she gave a curt nod, "I don't understand. The woman you loved, who was supposed to love you, too, even if it was only as a brother, made you feel unworthy and small in comparison to every other man she slept with, and I will never understand that no matter her reasons. You deserved better."

"She was afraid – it's not widely accepted, and –"

"And if you told me the sky was green should I believe that as well?" She shook her head. "I have witnessed several same sex couples since moving to Prythian. From everything I know about her, not telling you the truth and setting you free went against her very nature. She is one of the strongest women I know, and yet you expect me to believe it wasn't wrong for her to lead you on. It was cruel and until you admit that to yourself and to her, you will never be free of the pain she caused you."

"She did apologize for hurting me," I said, the need to protect Morrigan automatic, so ingrained within me, I put her well-being above my own. "She never meant to hurt me, and it wasn't as if I ever came right out and shared my feelings with her. And the truth is I don't want her to ever feel as if I don't accept her for who she is. It was a blow, yes, but it was one I was willing to take because she's my friend and I still care very deeply for her."

"You're a good man – male, Azriel." A faint smile graced her delicately beautiful features. "Even if I don't agree with the way you are handling this – this emotional baggage between the two of you, I will miss you when you return to Velaris."

"You make it sound as if I'll never see you again." That hurt like a knife to the heart. We'd grown close, much closer than I ever imagined possible, and she was just walking away from the friendship we shared to start a new life with no plan to include me. "I thought we were friends, Elain."

"Yes – we are friends." With a breathy sigh, she started walking again, following the pathway leading under multiple rose arbors. I followed a few steps behind, allowing her the space she needed to rip my heart open with more talk of the new life she wanted for herself. "I've been thinking about this a lot lately," she began, choosing her words carefully. "My heart was broken when Greyson broke off our engagement as if I never meant anything to him at all, and maybe I didn't. If he could only love me when I fit into the perfect picture he had of his future then it couldn't have been real love." She glanced over her shoulder at me, golden brown eyes briefly meeting mine then she returned her sights to the path ahead. "I want to find someone who will love me unconditionally. I want to share my life with him, and I want the same in return. I don't want half measures or to be someone's second choice…."

"For what it's worth, Lucien was a fool for not seeing how truly amazing you are. If you were my mate –" I said almost said too much, almost revealed the depths of my feelings for her.

"By the term _mate _do you mean the contrived philosophy the Fae live by which negates the wonderful possibilities of love arising naturally? If so you are wasting your breath on me." She paused at a water fountain the likes of which I'd never seen before, surrounded by gray cut stone. "Tamlin called it an endless vortex," she said as she climbed onto the ledge of the fountain, and stepped down into the pool to place her hand inside the tornado created within the water, interrupting the spinning column. A sheer curtain of water cascaded around the vortex undisturbed by her actions, and as soon as she removed her hand, the watery tornado reformed. "When I find a home of my own, I am going to have one built in my garden."

She motioned for me to step into the pool bubbling beneath the vortex, and against my better judgment, I tugged off my boots and socks, and pushed up my leather pants to my knees. "If you ever breathe a word of this, I will deny it," I said as I stepped over the rocks, and splashed my way to the center of the fountain, kicking up water at her along the way. Taking hold of my hand, she dipped it into the vortex of spiraling water, disrupting the current once more. "Is there a point to this other than soaking the edges of my wings?"

In truth, it fascinated me, my mind trying to comprehend how Tamlin's family had duplicated the action of a tornado within the water, wishing I could see the mechanical parts beneath the water to figure out how to recreate it on my own. Not to mention that I enjoyed the feel of her hand holding mine, emptiness spreading through me as she released her grasp on my hand.

"The point is that I don't know how it works." Her hand skimming along the surface of the vortex, she splashed me, water droplets trickling down my face as the vortex reformed. "I don't know how the vortex works anymore than I know how two people find each other against all odds and fall in love. But I do know that I want a choice in the matter. I want to fall in love someone naturally through shared experiences, and beautifully endless days of getting to know him. Being in love with someone isn't all about sex. No, sex with the person you love is the culmination of all those feelings that have built up over the course of getting to know someone intimately." Splashing me again, she grinned, and my stomach muscles tightened. "What can I say other than I'm a hopeless romantic at heart."

"Where is the fire and passion in the love you speak of?" I asked, scrubbing a hand down my face.

"You underestimate the power of a slow-burning romance," she whispered huskily, pushing past me to step out of the fountain. "The tension of heated moments, of those feelings building inside of you begging for release, every touch that sets loose a million butterflies while simultaneously tightens your stomach muscles – that is the love I want and will fight for."

"I hope you find him someday," I murmured, unable to meet her gaze. I rubbed at my temples as an ache formed behind my eyes. "All I want is for you to be happy."

"You should see a healer about your headaches," she said, pointing to the stone bench at the edge of the path. "Sit and let me massage your temples for you."

"That's not necessary," I said, making my way to the ledge to step out of the fountain. "You were going to do some gardening and I have already taken up too much –"

"Sit," she interrupted, not taking no for an answer, and grumbling about bossy females, I complied, my wings draping over the back of the bench. Stepping between my wings, her cool fingertips rubbed gentle circles at my temples. Eyelids fluttering closed, a soft moan slipped past my lips. "Am I pressing too hard?"

"Mmm…no, that feels – amazing…."

Her fingers traced a path to my shoulders, kneading away the tension. "How do you stand it – the tense muscles? It must wear on you."

"I don't think about it," I murmured, allowing myself to enjoy the feel of her hands on my body. Most females I had bedded over the course of centuries were as afraid of me as the males under my commanded. It didn't stop them from enjoying the pleasure I brought them, yet it never made them feel comfortable enough to do something as compassionate as massaging away the tension in my temples and shoulders. "Being an Illyrian war –" My breath caught in my throat as her fingers innocently skimmed along the edges of my wings, and I instantly went hard.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked, worry filling her tone, unaware of how sensitive my wings were, and how what could only be construed as an innocent touch had nearly brought me to my knees. Wings flaring wide to avoid being touched again, I bolted to my feet, and put some distance between us. "Are you okay, Azriel?"

"I-I have to go – I have…Rhysand needs me," I stammered, stumbling over my words as if this was the first time a female had ever touched my wings. Heat flushed my cheeks, making the situation all the worse, and yet she still had no idea what she'd inadvertently done. "I'll see you at dinner." With that said, I launched into the air, quickly putting as much space between us as possible.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks for reading, and a special thanks if you took the time to share your thoughts with me... ;)**

Chapter Eight

_Lucien_

"You actually punched Rhysand in the face?" Lilianna said as she looked at me through the floor-length mirror she stood in front of preparing for her meeting with the mortal queens. Dressed in a form-fitting white dressed threaded through with silver, her hair swept up at the top of her head with loose curls cascading down her back, loose tendrils framing her face and a diamond crown nestled within her hair, she looked exquisite, far too beautiful to be spending her day arguing with the queens over wages and other problems within the mortal lands. "I wish I could have seen the look on his face when you didn't back down." She turned to face me. "How do I look?"

"You look beautiful," I said, making no move to leave my spot perched on the bed, the rumpled blankets a reminder of the few stolen moments we spent together. "I think I prefer the clothes you used to wear, the ones that were too tight and too short, leaving nothing to the imagination."

"Are you certain you don't prefer that mauve monstrosity you bought me for Calanmai?" She chuckled at the memory of the hideous dress I bought to hide every inch of her body.

I grinned and winked at her as she crossed the room to stand in front of me. "I loved that dress."

"Then maybe I should wear it tonight instead of those lacy little things you bought for me."

"Cruel female." My arm snaked out, hooked around her waist, and dragged her down on top of me as I rested back on the mattress. Capturing her lips in hungry kiss, my fingers wove into her hair, and grabbing hold of the crown, I threw it across the room. I hated that crown along with all the others she wore along with all the responsibilities that interfered with time I wanted to spend with her. "After your meeting with those horrible queens, meet me at the Starlight Pool," I whispered, trailing my tongue along the rim of her ear. "There's something I want to show you."

She lifted up to look down at me, and arched a brow. "What? Your gloriously naked body?"

"Well, of course there's that," I said, pushing upward to brush my lips against hers. "As for the matter of what I want to show you, you'll have to wait and see for yourself."

"And you call me cruel," she huffed, her tongue tracing along my lips then delved into my mouth, but before the kiss had a chance to deepen, she pulled away from me, and ran a hand down her dress to smooth out any wrinkles. "Now my mind will be on you and the Starlight Pool while I'm supposed to be thinking about fair wages for services rendered." She glanced around the floor, spied her crown near the wall and went to retrieve it. "You know you could come with me. The mortal queens are beginning to wonder if Azriel is my mate or worse still that I've lied about the gorgeous man I've agreed to marry."

I smiled at the reminder of the marriage proposal I'd made before she left to speak to my father about bringing permanent peace to every court as well as the mortal lands. It was expected, to be happy at the mention of getting married, but the date of our vows kept getting pushed further and further away due to her work or mine. "I would but I fear my ears would bleed listening to them drone on and on about the unfairness of having to share their wealth with their subjects." Pushing to my feet, I walked to her, and taking the crown out of her hands, I set it atop her head. "Leave your hair disheveled so the queens know they are interrupting our sex life with their petty demands."

"What do you plan to do with your day while _my_ ears are bleeding?"

"You'll see when you meet me at the Starlight Pool," I answered vaguely, not wanting to ruin the surprise. "But before I head there Elain wanted to show me where she wanted to plant a new garden."

"And there was no one else she could ask about the planting of flowers?"

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, love," I said, leaning in to brush my lips against hers. "You own me heart and soul. I'm just trying to help her find her place in life."

"Do you still feel the pull of the cursed mate bond between the two of you?" she asked, and for a change it did feel good to have her be a little jealous instead of the other way around.

"It's a bond of friendship, nothing more," I assured her, almost mentioning the closeness between her and Azriel that often set my blood boiling. "If the queens do cause your ears to bleed with their infernal blabbering, tell them you'll take their concerns under advisement and end the meeting."

"I'll keep the meeting as brief as possible," she promised, and glancing around me at the bed, she sighed. "Let's take the night off and sneak into the Winter Court to go ice skating. Or better still, we could sneak into the Night Court to capture wishing stars as they fall from the sky."

"We can do both, but not tonight," I said, chest constricting at the downturn of her full dusky pink lips. "I have to keep an eye on the witch for Rhysand. Normally I would tell him to go screw himself, but he looked on edge. Something's not right about him, and I need to figure out what it is before it comes back to bite the Spring Court in the ass."

"Do you think he had something to do with Tamlin's fever and injuries?"

"Maybe not the injuries themselves, but I know to the very depths of my marrow that he is not telling us something."

She nodded, accepting my fears about what Rhysand was keeping secret from us without question. "I'll go with you then. It's not the night I hoped for, but as long as we're together I'll be happy."

"I'm sorry, Lili. If I could get out of it, I would," I whispered, slipping my arms around her waist, and tugging her closer. "As soon as she's gone, we'll do everything you've ever wanted or dreamed about doing."

"I'm not upset." Her hands framing my face, her eyes met and held mine. "You have your responsibilities just like I do." She bit at her lower lip, the silence stretching between us like a clear warning bell. "Speaking of which, the mortal queens are throwing a grand ball in my honor tomorrow night."

"And you're just telling me this now?" My golden eye clicked and whirled, quickly filling in the reason why she hadn't told me. "I'm not invited, am I?"

"I don't want you to be upset," she said, not quite the answer I was looking for.

"Why would I be upset, I have no desire to spend time in the mortal queens' company," I gritted out, forcing a smile to my face. "You should go and have a good time."

"The thing is…." She pulled out of my arms, and turned her back on me. "The thing is I have to have a human escort to the ball."

My hands curled inward into tight fists. "You're going a date with another male."

"It's not a date, Lucien. It's an arrangement," she said, and somehow that made it sound even worse. "As a High Fae I have to do everything within my power to gain the trust of the people. If they were to see me with you now, it's only natural that they would mistrust me and begin to fear that the Fae are trying to rule their lands. But if I have a human consort, even if it is only pretend, they will be much more accepting of me. The queens know this, they want the humans to mistrust me, and that is why they are throwing this ball. It's a ruse, nothing more."

My eyes widened incredulously. "The humans believe you are married to this male?"

"There is a rumor that we are engaged spreading through the queendoms, but it's a lie."

"Then tell everyone it's a lie!" I growled, not understanding why she hadn't done that in the first place instead of perpetuating their beliefs by attending the ball with him. "What if they figure out it's a lie? Will you marry him to prove that it isn't? Will you fuck him as they watch so they have the proof they need that you are not a liar?"

"If you had shown up at least once to show your support, to be at my side, you would have seen for yourself that the humans I am working so hard to help don't trust me. You know how important this is to me, you know it's what I've been tasked to do, and yet you still stay on this side of the Wall. It's not what I wanted, it's not how I planned to rule, but I am doing the best I can under the circumstances."

"Those are just meaningless excuses, Lili." I bobbed my head toward the door. "Get the hell out of my room!"

"Lucien, you have to –"

"I said go!" I snapped, heart hammering in my chest.

Tears filling her eyes, she squared her shoulders and gave a curt nod. She headed to the door, pausing with her hand on the doorknob to look back at me. "I love you, Lucien. More than life itself, I love you."

"That's just another lie." I nudged my head toward the door again. "Get out and don't come back."

"All right," she whispered, lips quivering as she held my gaze a moment longer then she slipped out the door, quietly shutting it behind her.

XxXxXxX

My bedroom a complete disaster by the time my anger cooled enough to head downstairs. Broken furniture lay strewn about the room, mirrors shattered, glass littering the floor. If Brie or Tamlin heard the banging of furniture as it collided with the walls, they made no mention of it when I stopped by to check on how Tamlin was doing. Instead they exchanged knowing glances, and made polite conversation, not once mentioning Lilianna's name.

My mate, the female I loved beyond measure, paraded around the human lands on the arm of another male pretending to be in love with him. Azriel must have know about the deceitful charade she carried out every time she went off to play at being High Queen, and never thought to mention it to me. Why would he? It wasn't as if he was my friend, his loyalty belonging solely to her.

I left the manor to find him, to confront him, and maybe I wouldn't win any fight I started with him, but at least I would end up feeling as bad on the outside of my body as I felt inside. With her admission, she crushed me, broke me, and there weren't enough apologies in the world to make me forgive her for carrying out her lie with another male.

But instead of finding Azriel, I ran into Elain on my way to the cottage. A serene smile gracing her beautiful face, she carried a bouquet of flowers in her hand. If Feyre saw her now, dressed in the shorts and revealing peasant shirt I'd given her, so at peace with her surroundings, she would have been fuming. Her smile turned to a frown as she approached me, and noticed the anger I couldn't find it in myself to hide.

"What happened?" she said, searching my face for answers when I didn't immediately respond. "You're upset, Lucien. I can see that clearly enough, tell me what happened."

"Lilianna has been parading around the mortal lands with another male." The words said aloud ripped and tore into my heart. "The humans believe they on the verge of getting engage. How often do you suppose she would have to kiss him for them to believe such a thing?"

"Did she explain her reasons for pretending to be with this man?"

"I don't care what her reasons are!" I snapped, fresh anger swelling inside of me. "Every single time she left me to return to the mortal lands, she betrayed me." I calculated the days in my head, the times when we'd been apart, and a low vicious growl rumbled in my throat as I realized she'd been lying and cheating on me for almost two months. "I kept wondering why she always found reasons not to marry me and now I know why."

She glanced down at the flowers in her hand then up at me. "She loves you, Lucien. She fought death itself to wait for you, if she's pretending to be with another man there must be a good reason."

"She claims the humans won't _accept_ her as their queen if she is married to me. If that's true, she will always find reasons not to marry me, and I will end up the male she fucks while her true husband pretends not to care where she is."

She winced at my crude choices of words. "Tell me you were smart enough not to say anything you will most definitely regret later," she rasped, brushing her windblown hair out of her eyes. "From what I have seen, you haven't stepped one foot on the other side of the Wall since Tamlin was rescued, so it stands to reason that you have no idea what difficulties she's facing as High Queen. She's young – younger than Feyre, and from my understanding there is no one to teach her how to be a good queen. Azriel helps out as much as he can, but the person she was supposed to be able to rely on, the man she loves with all her heart, left her to the vultures. You fought to be by her side once, and then for some reason you decided that was good enough, and left her to fend for herself. Say what you will about Feyre and Rhysand, but they would never abandon each other because it was easier than fighting for the love they feel for one another."

"I haven't abandoned her," I growled, surprised she would defend Lilianna's actions. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I've been busy helping rebuild the Spring Court, and when I haven't been doing that I've been traveling to other courts to try to gain an audience with them to discuss the welfare of the lesser faeries."

"I'm not saying you haven't been busy," she said, resting a hand on my arm. "What I'm saying is that you will go to the Wall but you will not cross it, leaving her to always run and chase after you. You want her to be here for you, but you don't reciprocate in kind. I know you hate the humans for what they did to Tamlin and that's why you don't cross the Wall. But if you don't even try to meet her halfway, you will lose her and you'll have no one to blame but yourself."

"You're putting the blame on me for this?" I rolled my eyes at how she managed to turn things around and make me the bad guy for being angry. "Of course it's my fault. I'm a male, after all, and we are always eternally wrong in the eyes of females."

"I'm not saying what she is doing is right, Lucien. I don't condone it, but having much more knowledge of humans than you do, I do understand that they wouldn't trust her. Getting angry and pushing her away, isn't going to help matters. It will only make them worse."

"How are things going with Azriel?" I said to change the subject, wanting to forget about Lilianna and the whole ugly mess our lives had become within a few short hours. "I saw the two of you heading into the gardens earlier. Did the shorts and blouse do the trick?"

"He's still in love with Morrigan," she said, shoulders sagging. "I can't compete with the nearly five hundred years he's loved her. Maybe he does feel something for me, but it will never compare to the love he has for her."

"Did you touch his wings like I suggested?"

"I felt like a fool, Luc." The flowers dropped from her hands to scatter on the ground. "There I was trying my damnedest to seduce him, and he didn't even notice. He doesn't want to move past the love he feels for her and make room in his heart for someone else. It's not her fault, but sometimes I hate her for it."

"You're giving up then?"

"I've been in love with him for almost two years and he hasn't even noticed." She let loose a heavy breath. "We spend a lot of time together, but he's always the perfect gentleman. So much so in fact that I sometimes wonder if Rhysand and Feyre asked him to be my personal bodyguard and he looks upon me as an obligation instead of a woman."

"If you haven't figured it out by now, I'll be the first to tell you that Illyrian males aren't the most intelligent creatures. They think with their swords not with their brains. If not, he would have realized a long time ago that you are the perfect female for him. It's not you that's the fool, it's him." Grasping hold of her hand, I pulled her into my embrace. "If you love him, don't give up, Elian."

"I can't believe I listened to you and touched his wings," she whispered, hugging her arms around me as I laughed. "I'll never do that again."

"It was worth a shot," I chuckled, brushing my lips against her forehead then pulled away from her, my arms falling loosely to the sides. "I still can't believe he wasn't a little turned on by the clothes you're wearing. Perhaps he sustained an injury during the war that prevents him from standing at attention."

"You're positively horrid, Luc," she said, playful punching my arm. "I'm sure his – his…."

"The word you're stammering over is manhood. There are, however, other names for it. Would you care for me to share them with you?"

A pretty blush colored her cheeks. "I know the other names for it." The blush deepened. "I refuse to talk about his – his manhood with you."

"That's good because I really don't care to talk about Azriel's dangly parts," I chuckled again. "Maybe you should just tell him how you feel," I added as my laughter died away. "As I recall that is the advice you gave me when I told you about Lili."

"This is different and you know it. I'm in love with a man who's hopelessly in love with someone else. He's never even tried to hide how much he loves her." She sighed and shook her head. "If it's okay with Tamlin and Brie, I've decided I'd like to make a home for myself in the Spring Court."

"Well, I guess moving to the furthest court away from the Night Court is one way to get over the man you're in love with."

"Moving here has nothing to do with Azriel," she said, and to her credit she almost sounded as if she believed it.

"Of course it doesn't. There are empty homes in the village and in many of the surrounding towns. When you're ready to find a place of your own, I'll give Azriel a map of their locations." I crouched and picked up the scattered flowers to hand to her. "I'd walk back to the manor with you, but I have somewhere I need to be."

"If I didn't say it before, thank you for your advice," she said, bringing the flowers up to her nose to breathe in their fragrant scent.

"You're thanking me for bad advice?"

"It wasn't bad advice." She shrugged. "Not really. I needed to know how he felt, and now I have my answer."

"If your heart can take it, I would suggest trying at least one more time before you give up hope."

"You shoulder follow your own advice," she said, giving my arm a gentle squeeze as she walked past me to head back to the manor.

I winnowed to the Starlight Pool, and for the longest time I stood staring the foundation of the home I'd started building for Lilianna and myself. She'd told me we would one day have four children, and I planned accordingly. The second level of the grand log cabin would have four bedrooms and a master suite, the first floor a large living room, dining room, kitchen, a den and a huge playroom for our children. Tamlin gifted me the land when I asked if it would be possible to build a home near the pool. Once his favorite place in the Spring Court, he hadn't visited the Starlight Pool since Feyre ran off to live with Rhysand, and he seemed eager to part with the land. I'd drawn up the blueprints myself, paying attention to detail in hopes of making it everything Lilianna would ever want in a home.

With the foundation poured and settled, I began to frame the first and second floor. I could clearly picture it in my mind, the bank of windows looking out over the Starlight Pool, a massive stone fireplace that opened on either side to be enjoyed in the living and dining room. There would be another fireplace in the master suite with a balcony where we'd spend lazy mornings sipping molten chocolate. I planned on waiting until it was finished to show her, changing my mind when I realized I wanted her to have her say in what she wanted in the home that would be ours.

Elain was right, I hadn't been supportive. After what the humans had done to Tamlin, I didn't want any part in traveling to their lands, much less dealing with the other queens. Lilianna had repeatedly asked me to join her during her visits and stays in the mortal lands, and I always found reasons why I couldn't make the trips. To make matters worse, during our time together, the very last thing I wanted to hear about was the day to day formalities of running her queendom, and would change the subject whenever she tried to talk about it. Maybe if I'd been there with her from the start, if we had worked as a team to convince the humans that the Fae had no intention of invading their lands, that she was not someone they needed to fear, there wouldn't have been any need for her to pretend to love a human male.

I promised myself that the moment she arrived, I would tell her that we would figure this out together and that I'd made a mistake in not being there when she needed me. I waited, and waited, and waited, the sun starting to dip below the horizon, and still I sat there alone on the stairs of what would be our home, all-the-while telling myself she would come that I just needed to give her more time.

Instead it was Tamlin who winnowed to the Starlight Pool, appearing before me and silently taking a seat beside me. We sat in silence until long after the sun had disappeared and the sky started to darken. "Do you want to talk about it?" he finally said to break the tense silence. "You obviously had a fight with Lili – we heard her crying when she left the manor."

"I told her not to come back," I whispered hoarsely, staring down at my hands. "I didn't mean it, Tam. I was angry, and I truly believe my anger was justified, but I didn't mean it."

"We all say things we don't mean when we're angry, Lucien. You made a mistake, you're not perfect, but neither is she." Resting his arms on his thighs, he clasped his hands and looked out over the mist forming across the water. "Unlike myself, you are not prone to anger, and that leads me to believe you had good reason to be angry with her. Yet for as bad as it might seem right now, it doesn't have to end like this. Whatever it is you felt she's done to hurt you, can you find it within yourself to forgive her?"

"The humans believe she's going to marry another male. Tomorrow night they're attending a ball together, and she informed me I wasn't invited."

"The answer's simple, Lucien. Glamour yourself and go to the ball as a human."

"Pretend to be someone I'm not to win back the female I love?"

"She'll know it's you," he assured me, bumping his shoulder into mine. "And you'll be charming and well, I'm not sure how charming you are but you'll do whatever it takes for her to see that you are still head over heels in love with her."

"I don't suppose you would consider attending the ball with Brie, would you?"

"No, I can say with absolutely certainty that I'll never attend another ball in my lifetime," he said, pushing to his feet. "Let's go home, Lucien."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

_Rhysand_

There was never a day that passed by where I failed to remember the darker aspects of my personality, the darker parts of me that Feyre accepted and came to love during the earlier moments we shared together. To protect her, I sacrificed an innocent girl along with her family, and yes, I did regret it, but if I had to do it all over again I wouldn't change a thing. Then there were the deaths of numerous Fae Under the Mountain that I was solely responsible for ending. I always reminded myself of the bigger picture, the idea that I was working toward freeing everyone who remained alive. The bigger picture was a lie I spent almost fifty years perpetrating.

I carried out each and every task Amarantha asked me to perform, murdering Fae who stood against her, those who might have had a chance to be true heroes if I hadn't intervened on her behalf. Sure there was guilt, plenty of it to spare. To this day I couldn't rid myself of it. It would creep up on me at various points in any given day to remind me that I had no right to be as happy as I was with Feyre and my family. Tamlin drove that point home when he brought up Clare Beddor.

Feyre believed him to be an abusive male, and I fanned the flames until they burned bitter hot. What she failed to see – what I failed to acknowledge, was that I was every bit as bad as him if not much worse. How easily it was forgotten that I cruelly twisted the jagged bone sticking out of her arm to get her to agree to let me help her. I didn't need to do it; I could have found another way to coax her into letting me heal her.

He locked her inside the manor while I locked her into an unbreakable deal to spend time with me. To appear better than him I offered up the freedom to do as she pleased – always making it clear that unlike him, I would always let her choose what she wanted to do and be supportive. Strong-willed and fiery to the core, Tamlin never stood a chance once I gave her what she truly wanted.

When she gave me the portrait she painted of herself for Solstice, capturing her inner essence, it should have terrified me, but instead of being terrified by the coldness represented within every stroke of her paintbrush, I cherished it. She painted herself as a monster, the stuff of nightmares, and although there was some lightness leaking through, it shouldn't have brought her peace of mind. It should have been a portrait of what she wanted to change about herself and not seen as a glowing testament of the person she was. The undeniable truth was that inherently good people didn't relish the utter darkness in their souls. They also didn't lord their power over those weaker than themselves to get their way, and we were both guilty of the former and the latter.

I never once fooled myself into believing my soul wasn't riddled with darkness, but now I was forced to question what lengths I went to in order to become the most powerful High Lord, a title I'd always been so proud and boastful of. When making the deal with the demon, did I stipulate that I didn't want to remember betraying my friend to make it easier on myself? And why now? We'd been enemies for a long time and there were plenty of times I would have gladly ended his life to rid myself of the pain of seeing his face. Why did the demon wait centuries to collect the debt it felt I owed it?

Those thoughts followed me home to Velaris, and even without being able to step into my mind, Feyre immediately noticed the change in my demeanor. She set aside the book she was reading as I slumped on the bed. At my side in an instant, her hand came to rest on my arm. I shrugged it away. "What's wrong, Rhys?"

"I'm not a good male, Feyre," I muttered, raking a hand through my hair. "I'm a terrible person who's done a few good things in hopes that it will offset the bad. It doesn't."

"That's not true," she whispered, cupping hold of my jaw to tilt my head to face her. "You are the best person I know, Rhys."

"Then you're a terrible judge of character." At the bite in my tone, her eyes narrowed on me, likely ready to blame Tamlin for my present mood. I didn't give her the chance. "Why did you forgive me for twisting the bone in your arm to get you to agree to the bargain?"

Her fingers grazed along my jaw line. "Because I realized you were only trying to help me."

"Do you have idea how screwed up that logic is?" Pushing up off the bed, I set to pacing in front of her. "You were sick – you were dying, and I made your pain worse to get you to do what I wanted you to do. Even if my intentions were good at heart, it doesn't excuse my abusive behavior."

"Why are you bringing this up now, Rhys?" Resting her hand on her rounded stomach, she added, "We have been through so much, we deserve to be happy."

"Why do we deserve to be happy? Maybe you do, but I have a helluva lot of deaths on my conscience, and not one of those dead Fae wants to see me live happily ever after." I paused in my steps to look down at her. "Do you ever regret anything you've done? I do all the time, but then I push it back into the furthest niches of my mind, and remind myself of the good I've done for the Fae of Velaris."

"As you should." She slowly got to her feet, and stood before me, framing my face in her hands. "You saved everyone in Velaris."

"And I killed a lot of innocent Fae to accomplish that goal. Amarantha ordered me to kill Fae and I would do it. I wasn't just her whore – I was her most deadly assassin, and no amount good deeds can wash away the vile things I did to keep a select few safe."

"I shouldn't have let you go to the Spring Court," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. Tears for me – the murderer of innocent Fae. "He hasn't changed. He's still a poison that ruins everything he touches."

"You didn't _let_ me go, Feyre. I choose to go see him." I let loose the growl of frustration rumbling in my throat. "He created a sanctuary for Clare Beddor. He didn't have to, he wasn't the one who caused her suffering and death, but he realized his share of the blame for not trying to protect her." Lightly grasping hold of her wrists, I gently pulled her hands away from my face. "You love me and so it's easy for you to overlook and forgive the terrible things I've done. I love you so damn much for it, but I can't go on pretending I'm this perfect male you've built up in your mind. I've made terrible mistakes, done truly horrible things, and any good I've done does not make up for it."

"I don't believe that, I'll never believe it," she uttered, shaking her head in refusal of the truth. "You had no other choice but to do Amarantha's bidding Under the Mountain, and I refuse to let you question the goodness in your heart."

Unwilling to let me argue the point I was trying to make any longer, her lips hungrily crushed into mine, teasing my mouth open with her tongue. Her hands slipping beneath the sides of my jacket, she pushed it off my shoulders to pool on the floor at the backs of my legs. My shirt followed quickly, but as she started to undo my pants, I came to my senses, and pulled away from her, taking several steps backward to clear my head. "Not every problem can be solved by having sex, Feyre." The words sounded much harsher than I'd intended, yet that didn't make them any less true. "It's my fault," I said, retaking my seat on the edge of the bed. "Sometimes I forget you're so much younger than I am."

"What do you mean by that?" she rasped, hugging her arms around her stomach, a reminder of the baby would soon bring into the world. "You're my –"

"Mate," I finished for her. "And we're well matched, perhaps maybe a little too well matched in some aspects. We can do no wrong in each other's eyes. If I left here tonight and went to the Autumn Court to raze it to the ground because I detest Beron and Eris, you would praise me for my efforts, and I would do the same for you. If someone hurts us, our first instinct is to destroy them, and by far that makes us much worse than those we feel have slighted us."

"Lower your shields and let me into your mind, Rhys," she begged, tears brimming in her eyes to spill unchecked down her cheeks. "Whatever is bothering you, you can share it with me."

"I can't, Feyre." If I let her into my mind, the witch and demon would use her and our unborn baby to get me to bend to their will. To assure their well-being, I would drop to my knees and bow before the demon of the bridge and eagerly do the creature's bidding to keep them safe. "This is something I need to figure out and handle by myself, and I need you to give me the same amount of trust and understanding I gave you when you took off on your own to accomplish some task during the war with Hybern."

"You're scaring me, Rhysand." At her side within a heartbeat, I wrapped my arms around her, and leaned my forehead against hers. "Whatever trouble you're facing, you don't have to do it alone. Let me help you…."

I pulled back slightly to look down at her, "I promise I'll be fine as long as you let me deal with this on my own. You are not to interfere in this. Is that clear?"

"Is that an order?" Anger sparking in her blue-grey eyes, she lifted a brow. Feyre didn't like to be told what she could and couldn't do, and likely never thought the day would come when I refused to let her help me. "Well, is it?"

"Does it need to be?" Although I kept my tone soft, it was still firm enough to leave no doubt in her mind that it was, in fact, and an order. "You and our baby are the most important people in my life, and I won't risk either of your lives just to prove once again that I am a better male than Tamlin. So yes, it's an order, and don't for a second doubt that I won't be beyond furious if you choose to disregard my warning not to interfere."

"You're forgetting that you are the most important person in my life," she whispered hoarsely, and the heartbreaking sadness that replaced the anger in her eyes, tore at my insides. "If anything happens to you – if you are not in this world any longer, I will follow you," she added, reminding me of the promise we made to each other after my death and resurrection at the end of the war with Hybern. "I will always follow you whether it's in this life or in whatever comes next. But I'm begging you not to force me to fulfill that promise before our children and our children's children have lived many years…I want a full life with you. I want to see and experience everything this world has to offer with you by my side. If you can promise me we will have many more years to live our lives together, I will promise not to interfere."

"I promise we will live to see our children's children grow up and have children of their own," I murmured, and lacing my fingers through hers, I tugged her toward the bed. "For now, though, I just want to hold you all night long and feel our son move inside of you."

XxXxXx

Morning came all too soon, much too soon, and although I pretended to sleep through the tears she tried to hide from me, the sadness and pain I'd caused her followed me to the Spring Court. A dark mood settled over me, one I couldn't afford to have when dealing with creatures that fed upon those emotions, and I realized the moment I stepped back inside the cottage the mistake I'd made in going home to see Feyre.

The air felt thicker, weighed down, the foul scent of sulfur wafting through the air. Not that Lucien noticed. Bedded down on the couch sound asleep, he made for an easy target for the witch and her demon master. He'd seen what the witch had done to Tamlin, how his best friend could have died if we hadn't managed to lower the fever, and yet he still felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in her presence. Peaceful, too peaceful, and that set off clear warning bells in my head.

I crossed the small, yet cozy living room, sidestepping an overstuffed chair and coffee table to shake him awake, stopping short as I heard the door to the bathroom open and close behind me. "Let him sleep," Tamlin whispered, and as I turned to face him, he bobbed his head toward the front door, and headed outside without another word, leaving me to follow him. His shields settled down around us as soon as the door clicked shut and I added my own to his. "In the future I would prefer it if you didn't ask Lucien to watch the witch. To you he may seem like an acceptable loss, but he's my best friend. If you need time away to clear your head, ask me to keep an eye on her."

"The witch won't harm him." A flimsy excuse for endangering Lucien's life, one I accepted as true instead of risking Azriel or Cassian's life by asking one of them to do the task. "She believes he saved her life, and whatever shred of honor she –"

"That's bullshit and you know it," he cut in, looking me up and down. "Dark witches have no honor. They live only to serve their masters. If the demon told her to kill him, he'd be dead and you'd be to blame."

"And yet for all your concern, you just left him alone inside the cottage with her," I pointed out, taking a jab at his mind trying to worm my way past the barrier Brie gifted to him when they became mates, to no avail. "You don't seem worried about him now."

"I've shielded him so he can get some sleep," he said, surprising me as I hadn't sensed his shield when I entered the cottage. "With Azriel and Cassian out doing whatever it is they do at all hours of the night, he felt it was his responsibility to watch her. It's not." Folding his muscular arms across his chest, he added, "As I already stated, if you need a break from watching her ask me."

"She's already proven you are no match for her," I said and he winced at the reminder of being bested by the witch.

"And you are?"

"Yes, I am." I smirked. "You didn't even last a few minutes with her." I waved a hand over myself. "I've spent hours with her and she hasn't left so much as a scratch on me."

"She caught me off guard. It won't happen again." Not rising to the bait, he shrugged off the insult. "You're going to have to find somewhere else for her to stay until you figure out what to do with her. I won't risk the lives of the Fae living in this village or anywhere on my lands by continuing to allow her to stay here."

"Where do you suggest I take her then?"

"You could take her to Velaris," he suggested, and a low growl rumbled in my throat in response. "As you've clearly pointed out, I am no match for her while you, the most powerful High Lord in the history of Prythian, can easily protect your people from her. If you're worried about Feyre objecting, I could go with you to remind her of how awesomely powerful the two of you are in comparison to the rest of us lowly Fae."

"You're not funny."

"Oh, I think I'm hilarious," he chuckled, playfully punching my upper arm. "Seeing your face when I suggested Velaris was priceless." His continued laughter caught the attention of several sentries leaving their homes to start their day, and sensing them looking our way, he smiled at each and every one of them. Tentative smiles pulled at their lips, not quite certain what to make of the two of us being together without either of us speaking harsh, cruel words to each other. "At one point we were as close as brothers should be," he added after they walked away, bobbing his head at two dark-haired males, and as he did their names came to me – Hart and Bron. "Now they keep their distance, using Lucien as a go between if they need to relay any information to me."

"It'll take time to regain the friendships you lost, Tam." Leaning against the railing, I watched Bron and Hart until they disappeared into the woods. "I need you to go with me to the Devil's Bridge. If we're going to find a way to rid ourselves of the witch, the answers will be there."

"You want me to go with you?" he said, mistrust and surprise clearly evident in his tone. I couldn't blame him as the last time we traveled there together he almost died. "Not that the idea of going back there doesn't thrill me beyond measure, but wouldn't you rather have your friends go with you? You're forgetting that we could very easily end up killing each other if we traveled any great length together."

"I'm willing to risk it." Pushing away from the railing, I faced him and took note of the concern etched into his brow. "You're not afraid, are you?"

"I'm not afraid, but I'm not a fool either, Rhys. The last time I went there I almost ended up dead and I can't even recall how it happened." He glanced at the doorway, likely seeing beyond it and into the bedroom where the witch now resided. "While I may not have as much to lose as you do, I cherish every moment I spend with Brie, and I don't want to lose my life with her over this witch. When I asked you to join me in the fight to liberate the lesser faeries, you refused for the sake of your people, well, this isn't my fight."

"It is you just don't realize it yet." That was as truthful as I could be with him at the moment. It wasn't as if I could tell him that the demon had given me one month to decide whether to kill him or lose my own life. I'd promised Feyre I would survive this enemy that spoke through witches and tore through flesh with a mere thought, and that didn't bode well for him. I had a wife and child along with many friends to think of while his death would only bring heartache to Brie and Lucien. "If I didn't believe you could very easily lose everything if this witch isn't dealt with, I wouldn't ask you to go with me."

His brows pulled together, eyes narrowing on me. "What do you mean by _lose everything_? What aren't you telling me, Rhysand?"

"I'm just making it very clear that the witch is a threat neither of us can afford to shove off onto someone else to deal with. If we don't find a way to kill her, she will destroy everything good in our lives. So I'm asking you again to come with me to the Devil's Bridge to find a way to kill her."

He hesitated a long moment, too long of a moment, no doubt considering everything I said and left unsaid, then finally gave a curt nod. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning. That'll give me time I need to find a better place to keep her locked up until she is dealt with."

"I meant what I said earlier. Don't involve Lucien in this matter again."

"I won't," I conceded with a weary sigh. "Be ready to go at first light tomorrow."


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for taking the time to read my story. Please let me know what you think. I live for reviews. Am I getting the characters right? Do they feel true to the characters in Sarah Maas' wonderful series? **

Chapter Ten

_Azriel_

Although I kept an eye out for him, I hadn't seen any sign of Cassian since he'd flown away in anger. My shadows confirmed that he'd left the Spring Court, and I couldn't help but wonder if he returned to the camp where he was born to find out the truth for himself about his mother. I shouldn't have pushed him to accept the possibility that she was a dark witch without having tangible proof that my gut feeling was right.

I kept my suspicions from Rhysand during our one brief encounter before he returned home to Velaris to spend the night with Feyre. Yet for however brief our meeting was, it was enough for me to see that there was something bothering him, and that kept me from adding to his stress by mentioning Cassian or the Illyrian commanders' decision to strip him of his warrior status. I told myself the news would somehow hurt less if it came from both me and Cassian, but in truth I didn't want to tell him, not alone or with Cassian there to try to lessen the blow.

Then there was Elain who I went out of my way to avoid, not showing up at dinner as I promised I would. From the onset of our relationship, she only ever saw me as a friend, the one person she could share her feelings with about her mate bond with Lucien and the pain she felt over Grayson breaking their engagement. Numerous times she'd made it very clear that she would never accept any Fae into her heart, and so I kept my feelings to myself. I told myself that I was okay with just being her friend, that I didn't want or need more than friendship, but then she touched my wing and the electrified jolt of desire it sent racing through my entire being forced me to realize I didn't just want to be friends with her – I couldn't just be friends with her. I wanted more, I wanted her to look at me and not see a Fae standing before her but a man who would love her until his last dying breath.

I was a dreamer of impossible dreams. First with Morrigan and how deeply I'd fallen in love with her when she'd never shown even a hint of romantic feelings for me, and how I stood by as she slept around with too many males to count over the course of centuries as a way of telling me she wasn't interested in me. And now with Elian it was again one-sided, and I needed to distance myself from her before I got crushed beneath the weight of unrequited love a second time.

Lucien made that impossible, showing up at the training grounds to hand me a list of empty homes to escort Elain to in the hope that she would find one she liked. "There are several nice cottages in the village," he said as I studied the list of homes along with the cost of each one of them, making a conscious effort not to crumble the paper in my hand. "There are also a few larger homes near the Spring Castle," he added, pointing to the locations of those dwellings on the map he provided. "They're a little higher in price, but as I told Elain the money will go directly to any surviving family members."

"Why aren't you showing them to her?" I asked, keeping my tone flat to hide the anger building inside of me. "You know where these vacant homes are located. You should be the one to help her find a place to live."

"I can't." His golden eye clicked and whirled. "I have an important meeting with my father later today, and tonight I'm attending a ball in the mortal lands." He bobbed his head at the sentries fighting in the rings with Bron and Hart overseeing them. "You don't need to be here for hand to hand combat. Swords or knives, sure, but I think Bron and Hart can manage to train them to fight with their bare hands."

"You could take her tomorrow."

"I'm busy tomorrow and the day after that as well." He smirked. "It'll only take a few hours at most, Azriel. If you're lucky she'll find a home in the village that suits her and then you can get back to doing whatever it is you do for Rhysand." Waving a hand at me, he added, "And for Cauldron's sake, change into something other than leather."

I rubbed at my temples; a headache forming that would worsen as the day progressed. "All right, I'll take her house hunting."

XxXxXx

I'm not sure why I took his advice, changing into black pants and matching tunic with silver brocades for a day of searching for a home for Elain in a court far from Velaris. With any luck she wouldn't find any place that came close to comparing to the townhouse Feyre and Rhysand had given her and she would decide to return home when we did. Thankfully, she decided to forgo the shorts and off-the-shoulder peasant shirt she'd worn the day before or I wouldn't have been able to concentrate on finding flaws in every empty house we visited. Instead she wore a pretty lavender dress with a sheer overlay and fitted bodice, enticing nonetheless, but definitely not as revealing as the shorts.

Too bright. Not bright enough. Too drafty. Not enough windows. Too many windows. Doesn't have the right feel to it. Those were just a few of the complaints I made during our trip to every vacant house in the city, and I could feel her frustration growing, likely wishing she'd waited for Lucien to go with her instead of me.

"This isn't the right house for you," I said as we surveyed the master suite of one of the last vacant homes on Lucien's list. It was large and airy with a balcony overlooking a large courtyard filled with fragrant flowers of every imaginable color. "It's haunted."

"Haunted?" She looked away from the gardens below, and scrunched her brow. "This house is haunted?"

I'd run out of excuses six houses ago, and my made up reasons were becoming more and more absurd. "Yes," I bobbed my head at the vanity table and the gilded mirror above it. "My shadows have detected two ghosts dwelling in this house. One is sitting right there, and she is not happy that we are trespassing on her property."

"And a flesh eating – what did you call it again?"

"Grumpkin," I supplied the name of the made up creature, a worried frown creasing my forehead. There were so many wicked creatures I could have named, all of which could have been easily verified if she chose to look them up, but my mind blanked and the name grumpkin came out. "Nasty creatures. Rows and rows of pointed teeth and gray leathery skin – they'll tear you to shreds in a matter of seconds."

"So this house is haunted and a flesh eating grumpkin inhabited the well of the last one. It's a good thing these creatures seem to prefer vacant homes instead of places where they might actually find prey to feast upon," she said, taking one last look around the spacious bedroom. "I think I've decided to find a home on the outskirts of the village instead of the city. The yards are bigger and there are a few without well-established gardens, giving me the freedom to create one of my own."

"If you want a larger yard we can find you a house in Velaris with acres of land," I said as I followed her out into the hallway and down the stairs. "Please reconsider your decision to live here, Elian. The Spring Court is a haven for wicked creatures that wouldn't dare set foot on Night Court soil. It is much safer for you in Velaris."

"I already told you I want to experience what it is like to live on my own. I can't do that if everyone is always hovering around me." Glancing over her shoulder at me, the heel of her shoe snagged on the thick blue stair runner. She tripped, and within a blur of shadows, I appeared in front of her, catching her before she tumbled down the stairs. Her body pressing against my chest, my wings instinctively curved around her. "Thank you," she whispered, fingers lightly caressing my cheek.

Stomach muscles tightening, my heartbeat thundered in my ears, the urge to kiss her near overwhelming me. "No need to thank me." I pulled away from her and tucked my wings tight behind my back. "We should head back to the manor."

"Oh…I thought if we finished early we could do some exploring," she said, moving past me to descend the last few steps. "Lucien mentioned a beautiful waterfall not far from the city. He claimed if you stood beneath the spray and made a wish, it would come true."

"Maybe if your wish was to drown it would come true," I said, shadows curling around my body, seeping in and out through my skin. With a low growl rumbling in my throat, I pushed the shadows deep down inside of me. "If you had wanted him to come with you, why didn't you ask him?"

"If you didn't want to come with me you should have said so," she said instead of admitting that now that Lucien was no longer her mate she decided she wanted him. If not, she wouldn't have suddenly decided she wanted to live so far away from her sisters. She wanted to stay in the Spring Court for the simple fact that he had made it his home, and every moment he spent with her he was betraying his true mate. Maybe Lilianna didn't see it that way, perhaps she trusted him more than he deserved, but neither of them fooled me. "You're my friend, Azriel, my best friend, and I wanted to spend time with you. But if you have more important things to do," she waved a hand at the front door, "then by all means go and I'll find my way home on my own."

"And have you inform Lucien and the others that I abandoned you?" Lips pursed, I shook my head. "No, I'll escort you back to the manor."

"Well, if that's the case," she smiled sweetly, "I'm going to the Wishing Falls."

_Stubborn obstinate female._ She wouldn't take no for an answer, and against my better judgment we ended up at the Wishing Falls. Her jaw slackened, golden-brown eyes taking in the splendor of the steps and green pathways winding through and separating the falls into separate pools below the clear blue-green lake above. Water cascaded through the lush greenery, spilling over mossy rocks and into the pools below, only slowed down by the narrow strip of hilly land cutting through the end of the lake. A natural walkway, I realized, made a path from one side of the lake to the other, but I couldn't begin to fathom why the water hadn't overtaken the land in an effort to spill endlessly over the falls.

While I stood gaping at the natural wonder and sheer beauty of the falls, Elian had slipped off her dress, leaving nothing to cover her body except a silky, body hugging chemise that left nothing to the imagination. "What do you think you're doing?" I growled, averting my eyes while simultaneously grabbing for my sword. Just because I couldn't detect any hidden threats, didn't mean that the sight of her in so little clothes wouldn't draw unsavory creatures to us. "Put your clothes back on – now!"

"I'm going to make a wish, and I'd prefer not to get my dress wet while doing it," she said, and taking two steps into the water, she sighed contentedly. "The water's warm. I thought it would be cold, but it's not."

"Get out of the water!" I ordered another growl rumbling in my throat when she shook her head and stepped further into the pool. "There could be creatures swimming below the surface that'll drag you under to pick your bones clean."

She glanced back over her shoulder and smiled at me. "If you are afraid of getting your wings wet, I understand. I'll go the rest of the way alone."

"I'm not a –"

She dove under the water, my eyes narrowing to watch her swim toward the waterfalls. Shadows seeped out of me, skimming along the water and feeling beneath it for any unseen dangers. Nothing. No reason to worry and yet my heart was still racing. She burst through the surface of the glistening pool, turned back to gesture for me to join her, and my eyes gravitated to the wet, silky material clinging to her breasts. An alluring nymph, tempting me beyond reason, that's what she was, and she didn't even realize it.

_She thinks of me as her best friend,_ I reminded myself, recalling the words she'd spoken only a short while ago, and yet I was still hard as a rock. I should have left, should have escaped within my shadows, found Lucien and dragged him to the Wishing Falls so her wish would come true. That was what her wish would be; to have the male she still considered her mate to love her in return. I'd made the same horrible mistake with Morrigan, standing on the sidelines, always being there for her when she needed me, and in the end she could never love me. Or at least not in the way I had wanted her to love me. Yet instead of leaving to find her heart's desire for her, I vanished within my shadows and reappeared a moment later sitting on a mossy, rocky outcropping at the base of the waterfall. Water sprayed down and misted over me as she drew closer to the falls.

"The rocks are slick. Watch your step," I cautioned as she swam to one of the large flat rocks at the base of the waterfall. I slid off the rock, legs thigh deep in the water, and reached out a hand to help her to her feet.

"It's so beaut –"

She slipped on the wet moss-covered rock, arms flailing, and I quickly snatched her up in my arms, her fingers skimming along the sensitive inner edges of my wings. Eyes fluttering closed, my breath caught in my throat, leaving me in staggered succession. "Cauldron above, woman!" I rasped, struggling to rein in my desire with her wet body flush against mine. With her nearly transparent chemise, hiked up around her creamy, silky smooth upper thighs, it was near impossible to control the hunger I felt to taste her lips and continue a slow sensual path downward. "You need to be more careful. If I had been across the lake, you could have fallen and cracked your head wide open."

"You're trembling," she whispered, and it was true. I could blame it on the cold water rushing over us to be warmed in the lake below or I could claim I feared for her safety and it caused me to tremble, but neither of those two excuses would have been the truth. Deep down inside of me, I felt a sharp tug and a sudden shift, setting loose a thousand horrible thoughts and one clear one. She wasn't my mate, but she should have been. "And you called me a woman instead of a female. Not very Fae of you, but I liked it."

"It was not a compliment," I whispered hoarsely, setting her back on the flat rock, water spraying down upon her ethereal beauty. "Make your wish and be quick about it. I have already wasted too much of the day on inconsequential things."

"Oh…." Her full lips dipped into a frown which she quickly covered with a smile. "You're right. It was a silly girlish dream to believe that if I made a wish under a waterfall it would come true."

"You're not going to make a wish?" It didn't sit well with me to be the one to shatter her dreams even if those dreams were about Lucien or Grayson. "Make your wish, lil dove." My fingers grazed along her damp cheek to brush away the drenched and dripping locks of hair, and I tucked the wet strands behind her pointed ear. "My wish would be to never cause you to frown again, and for you to find the happiness you desire whether it is in Velaris or somewhere else."

A gentle smile gracing her delicate features, she pressed her eyes closed for several long moments. "We can go now."

I lifted a brow. "You made your wish?"

"Yes."

I waited for her to elaborate, to give me some hint as to what she wished for, and even if her hopes and dreams of finding love with someone else crushed me, I silently vowed I would help her make her wish come true. "Well, what was your wish?" I prompted when she failed to say any more about it.

"I'd rather not say," she said, diving into the water again to swim back to the other side of the lake.

I vanished into my shadows and reappeared at the water's edge. Folding my arms across my chest, I waited until she waded out of the water. "What do you mean, you'd rather not say? I told you my wish, it's a – there are rules in wish telling. If I share mine with you, it is customary that you have to tell me yours."

"There are no rules regarding the telling of wishes." Brushing her hand through her wet hair, she pushed it out of her face then twirled her finger for me to turn around while she changed out of her drenched see-through chemise. Groaning at the sight of the sheer fabric clinging to every curve of her body, I swung around to face the trees.

"At least give me a hint," I whispered huskily, stomach flip-flopping at the thought of her undressing behind me. If I were Rhysand or Cassian, I would have said something cleverly seductive or hopelessly romantic to make her forget about any other male but me. I wasn't them, and I definitely wasn't the kind of male a woman like Elain would be interested in. "How can I help you get your heart's desire if I don't know what it is?"

"You can't help me," she said, tossing her chemise on the ground near my feet. "It was a foolish, fanciful dream, one I'd rather never tell anyone."

"Is it a male?" I pressed, a deep ache spreading through my chest when she didn't immediately deny it.

"You think I'd wish for a man?" she huffed, sounding indignant that I would even suggest such a thing, yet she still hadn't denied it. Circling to face me, she turned her back on me, and gestured over her shoulder at the open back and missing buttons that must have popped off when she removed her dress. "You wouldn't happen to have anything I could use to keep the back of my dress closed, would you?"

"Why yes, I always travel with a full sewing kit complete with extra buttons for occasions just like this," I muttered sarcastically, scrubbing a hand down my face. "Rhysand will kill me if he sees your dress torn open. He'll think someone –"

"Just winnow me to my bedroom and he'll never know about the dress," she stated calmly, turning to face me. "It's just a dress, Azriel. I have many more of them, and it's not like he pays enough attention to me to notice if one of my dresses has gone missing."

"First of all, I don't winnow, I fold into my shadows and travel where they take me," I said, holding up one finger and then raised a second one. "And secondly, I can't bring you to your bedroom due to the wards around the manor. The closest I can get to Tamlin's home is the gardens and we'd have to sneak you upstairs to your room."

"All right." She snatched up her wet and dripping chemise from the ground, and stepped into my embrace, her head coming to rest against my chest. "Take me home, Shadowsinger."

"What was your wish?" I murmured, fingers slipping beneath the edges of her open dress to graze along her silky skin. She sighed contentedly, her body relaxing against mine. "Please tell me, Elian."

"I wished for the man I love to love me in return." Looking up at me, she sighed again but this time it was heavy with heartache. "It was a wasted wish. His heart belongs solely to another, and I can't begin to compare to her or the love he feels for her."

Lucien. Shoulders slumping, my heart plummeted into the pit of my stomach. She wasted her wish on the male she once believed to be her mate. "I'm sorry he is such a blind fool he cannot see how perfect you are."

"You needn't feel sorry for me," she rested her head against my chest once more, "I've already accepted that he will never be mine…can you take me home now, Azriel. I'm not feeling well all of the sudden."

"Of course." Brushing my lips against the top of her head, I folded her into the warmth of my shadows and we disappeared, leaving behind the momentary hopes we both shared of finding love at the waterfall.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks for taking the time to read...:)**

Chapter Eleven

_Rhysand_

Moving the witch from the cottage to a different more secure location should have been left until night time, but I was eager to find a place to keep her before Azriel and Cassian returned. I'd seen what she and the demon had done to Tamlin, and I wouldn't allow the same to happen to them. I considered taking her to the dungeons deep within the Court of Nightmares, and dismissed the thought almost immediately. If Keir found about her, which in his position wouldn't have been difficult to do, he could easily free her wreak havoc on Velaris. No, the witch needed to remain in the Spring Court until I found a way to kill her.

After checking several abandoned dwellings outside the village and noting how close they sat to homes inhabited by Fae of Tamlin's court, I made the decision to shield her inside the cave used for Calanmai. I knew from the friendship I once shared with Tamlin that the cave remained off limits when not in use for the ritual, and no one dared to enter it without permission from the High Lord. There was only one way in and out, and as long as my shields held firm and her mouth remained sewn shut, she wouldn't be able to escape.

To avoid running into anyone, I winnowed the witch to the mouth of the cave and dragged her inside. Within the blackened abyss untouched by faelight, I didn't have to look upon her, didn't have to see those wicked hazel eyes that seemed to follow me throughout the day and into my dreams, yet that didn't stop the demon's voice from echoing through my mind. I had one month to decide whether or not to sacrifice Tamlin to save myself, and the demon wasn't making it easy for me to choose him over myself.

The demon reminded me of my mother and sister and how Tamlin failed to save them, and even though I knew the truth of what transpired the day they died, it was still a failure on his part nonetheless. Then it changed tactics and whispered through my mind about my mate and all the pain Tamlin had caused her. It spoke of how he'd locked her inside the manor and blew up a room around her, and visions came into my mind as I set the shield around the mouth of the cave of how thin Feyre had become after returning to the Spring Court once freed from Under the Mountain. That was Tamlin's doing. Also, when he had his one chance to help her escape from Amarantha he chose instead to use those fleeting moments to try to satisfy his own sexual desires. She could have died Under the Mountain, and all he cared about was fucking her. He didn't deserve my forgiveness or Feyre's. Why give up my life for a male who wouldn't save her when he had the chance? If the demon wanted his blood so badly, he could have it.

"You should have asked my permission before you locked the witch inside of the cave," Tamlin said from behind me, startling me out of the trance I'd fallen under. I should have realized he would sense the presence of evil within the cave where Spring renewed itself. "You can't –" His voice trailed abruptly as I turned to face him, and he sucked in a deep breath. "Your eyes," he touched his fingers to his cheek, "they're bleeding and – and your irises are blood-red."

Wiping the back of my hand across my cheek, I pulled it away to reveal no sign of the blood he mentioned. "It's nothing more than a witch's trick. You saw what she wanted you to see. Add your shield to mine to keep her power contained within the walls of the cave."

"No, what I see is real." He closed the distance between us, and rubbed his fingers down my face, and when he pulled them away they were slick with blood. Eyes narrowing on the blood covering his hand, I touched my face again, and this time when I pulled my hand away it was painted with blood. "She is in your mind, Rhysand. You need to lock her out of it!"

It wasn't her traipsing through my mind as if my shields were made of nothing more than water, it was the demon. Not that I could tell him that. He would question how the witch's demon master got its hooks into me, and I refused to admit I might have unknowingly made a deal with the creature from the bridge to gain more power. I slammed down another stronger shield in my mind, and when I blinked, he visibly relaxed, a clear sign that my eyes had returned to their normal color.

"She can't stay here," he said, looking from the mouth of the cave to me and back again. The witch stood smiling an eerie crooked smile at him as she pointed a finger at me. She slowly shook her head back and forth, back and forth as if in silent warning not to trust me. "There must be a place in the Night Court that would be strong enough to contain her power."

"She stays where she is," I gritted out, rubbing at the dried blood on my face and neck then with a mere thought I washed away any traces of blood from my skin and clothes. "Lucien brought her to your lands and that makes her your problem. If you try to remove her from this cave, I will leave you to deal with her yourself. Understand?"

He gave a curt nod, uncertainty filling his green eyes. "What did she put into your mind that has made you so angry?"

"It wasn't her, it's you," I snapped, turning away from the cave to head toward the rise overlooking the grounds where Fire Night took place every year, and he followed a few paces behind. "When I let go of my anger over my mother and sister's deaths, I forgot that I have so many other reasons to hate you." I glared over my shoulder at him. "The one chance you had to help Feyre escape from Under the Mountain, you wasted on trying to have sex with her. If you had taken her and left the –"

"You're right," he cut in, and catching hold of my arm, he swung me to face him. "In the few moments I was free of being watched, I was so overcome by the need to hold and touch the woman I loved, I did fail to think of and execute a plan to help her escape from Under the Mountain, and for that I do feel regret. But looking back upon it, I cannot see how a few moments of being left unwatched would have been enough time to get her far away from Amarantha."

"You should have tried." My eyes narrowed on him, and the demon's many voices rang through my mind, urging me to kill him. "She died and that is your fault."

"Or. It. Was. Yours," he said, stressing each word, clawed nails punching out from beneath his knuckles, prepared to defend himself if I attacked. "Yes, I had a few fleeting moments to do something, anything to save her, and I didn't. But neither did you, Rhysand. The difference is that you had months of almost unlimited and unguarded access to her, and instead of using that time to free her, you chose to dress her up as your whore and parade her around in a drunken haze. You loved her even then, I know you did, and yet saving her was the furthest thing from your mind at the time. Deny it if you must, but the facts are clearly not in your favor."

"If I had tried to free her, she would have been recaptured and then I wouldn't have been able to help her with the trials," I said to defend my actions, folding my arms across my chest to keep from punching the smug look off his face.

"Of course, but if I had attempted to free her," he rested a flattened hand against his chest, "she would have used those few moments to get all the way to the other side of the Wall and well beyond it to a land where Amarantha could never find her." He shook his head and sighed. "You are finding reasons to keep this feud going between us, and I refuse to play along. I have a female who loves me as much as I love her, and I will not go down this road of hatred with you again."

He was right. Before the demon had slipped into my mind I had wanted to try to rekindle our friendship and let go of the anger I'd worn like a second skin for so long. If he had tried to free her in those moments they'd shared Under the Mountain, it would have ended in her death. In my gut I knew that to be true, and without Tamlin being set free from the curse there would have been nothing I could have done to bring her back.

"I don't want to travel down that road any longer either," I rasped, mentally checking the strength of the shields I'd set in place, and finding no cracks where the demon might slip through again, I glanced over my shoulder at the cave. "Although I did feel that way at one time, it wasn't me who wanted to start a fight with you. It was the witch, and she will do the same to you if given the chance. That's why it is imperative that we rid ourselves of her as quickly as possible. We shouldn't wait until morning to go to the Devil's Bridge. We should go right now."

"No," he shook his head, long golden bangs falling into his eyes, "you aren't thinking clearly, Rhys. If we traveled there right now, you'd be playing right into the demon's hand. He wants you off-kilter, making rash decisions that will benefit him. You chose the morning because the demon is at its weakest during the first light of day, and that is when I'll go and not a moment before."

"You're afraid."

"Yes, I am," he admitted unashamedly, no longer trying to pretend he wasn't afraid of what the witch or demon could do to him. "And not without good reason. The last time I went to the Devil's Bridge with you I almost died, and I have this sick feeling in my gut that this time will be no different." He touched his fingers to the corners of his eyes. "Your eyes were bleeding, and you can blame it on the witch all you want, but I know it was the demon. It wants something from you and it will devour everyone you care about to get it, and that frightens me."

As I opened my mouth to refute his fears, I caught sight of Cassian flying toward us, wings flapping hard as he soared through the sky. He landed several feet away from us, and looked me up and down as if he was sizing up an enemy. No hint of humor in his normally expressive hazel eyes, no trace of a smile, only raw power crackling from his glowing red siphons and tightly leashed anger.

"Where is she?" he uttered, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

"What did the witch do!?" I said, fearing tightening in my chest that something bad had happened to Azriel. "Where's Azriel? Did she do something to him?"

"I asked where she is," he growled, "I won't ask again!"

"She's in the cave," Tamlin supplied, blowing out a heavy breath, and gestured to the entrance of the cave.

Without another word, Cassian stalked toward her in long determined strides. He came to stand in front of the mouth of the cave, waiting for the witch to show her face. From out of the shadows, she crept forward, and lifted her hand to ghost along the shields both Tamlin and I set in place, and Cassian mirrored her movements.

"Get away from the witch, Cassian!" I shouted, pushing past Tamlin to race toward him.

"She's. My. Mother," he snarled, stressing each word, and hearing him call her his mother, I stopped short, Tamlin barreling into me, knocking us both off our feet. "Remove the shields and let her go!"

"She's bewitched you." Roughly shoving Tamlin off of me, I dragged myself up off the ground. "You're not thinking clearly, Cassian," I added, tilting my head to the side to look beyond him at the witch. "She did the same thing to Azriel. Move away from the shields – that _is_ an order!"

"You think I don't know my own mother's face?" His wings flared wide, obscuring my view of the witch. "It's true, Rhysand. If you don't believe me ask Azriel. The female you are trying to find a way to kill is my mother, and I cannot allow you to harm her."

"You see the golden thread sewn into her mouth and the markings on her skin," I said, keeping my tone low and calm as I slowly made my way to him. "She is a dark witch, and as such she can make you believe whatever she wants you to believe, and right now it benefits her for you to think she's your mother."

"He's right," Tamlin said from behind me, earning himself a menacing growl from Cassian. "I can't say if she's your mother or not, but from everything I've seen from her, she is most definitely a dark witch and I will not lower my shield around the cave and risk the lives of my people."

"Nor will I," I said, slipping into his mind to try to untangle whatever spell the witch had cast upon him, to no avail. If there was a spell, it was woven too tightly into the very fabric of his mind, and to undo it would shatter him. "She will stay where she is and you will return to Velaris," I added, compelling him to do as I commanded.

Cassian shifted to face me, wings tucked tight behind his back. "She's my mother, Rhysand," he uttered, his tone a heartbroken plea. His deeply ingrained love for his mother overrode every mental order I gave to leave the Spring Court. "I will not be separated from her again. If you kill her, you will have to kill me as well."

"Give me time to figure this out," I said after a lengthy pause, and Tamlin glanced sideways at me. "Go back to Velaris and I will send Azriel to get you when I've found a way to save her."

"No." Lips pursed, he shook his head. "I will stay with my mother to see that no harm is done to her. If you won't lower the shields then allow me to pass through them."

"I can't do that." Maybe she was his mother, but it wouldn't matter if she was. The moment he crossed through the shields the demon would use Cassian to get to me, and if he got to me I would have to kill Tamlin to save Cassian. "You have to trust me, Cass. If she is your mother I will do everything within my power to keep her alive for you. I just need time to sort this out."

"You can make camp here," Tamlin added, and as he spoke a tent appeared beside Cassian. "Your presence at the cave will serve duel purposes. You can protect her as you wish while at the same time keeping my people safe from her dark magic."

"She won't hurt anyone else now that we are together," Cassian said, remembering her as the loving female who had raised him before he was forcefully taken from her, and not thinking of her as the dark witch capable of killing a Fae with a mere thought. He turned back to the female he believed to be his mother, dismissing not one but two High Lords with the gesture.

"Tomorrow morning," I said, and waited for Tamlin to nod before I winnowed home to Velaris to see Feyre.

I found her in her studio painting, and the moment she saw me she dropped her paint brush and hurried over to me. Dropping to my knees, I wrapped my arms around her waist, her fingers weaving into my hair. She silently waited for me to let her into my mind, and after several long moments I let her slip through one barrier to see what had just transpired. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt my pain and heartbreak over being at odds with Cassian. _I can't let her live, Feyre, _I whispered raggedly down our shared bond, tears filling my eyes. _I can't. If I do and she hurts or kills someone it will be my fault. _

_What if her powers were stripped from her? _she said, tucking her fingers under my chin to lift my head, and held my watery gaze. _I'll speak to Amren and Mor and together we'll scour the every library in Prythian to find a way to rid her of her powers. We'll figure this out, Rhys. You've shut me out, but we are stronger together. You have to let me in._

_I can't. It's too dangerous, and I refuse to put you or our son at risk._

"At risk from what?" she said aloud, tears filling her eyes to spill down her paint spattered cheeks. "If I don't know the risks how can I protect myself and our child while you're away?"

"You have to trust me the way I have always trusted you," I rasped, and she pulled away from me, her hand coming to rest on her rounded stomach. Resting back on my haunches, I looked up at her. "Do you believe that people get what they deserve in the end, Feyre?"

The color drained from her face, making the red and yellow paint speckled across the bridge of her nose stand out in stark contrast "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I've done some good in my life, but I have done so many terrible things to keep the people I care about safe that there has to be some sort of reckoning. What if losing the love and trust of everyone I care about is the price I am supposed to pay for protecting them?"

"That would never happen," she said, and tilting my head to the side to look beyond her at the painting of me she was working on, I couldn't help but notice that the muted reds, oranges and vibrant yellows she'd used to halo my wings looked an awful lot like the fires I'd once caught a glimpse at under the demon bridge. Without realizing it, she'd painted me as a demon. I could see it clearly in every line, stroke, and shadow left behind by her brush, and I wished I could rip the painting to shreds. "You won't lose Cassian or anyone else you love." She caught hold of my jaw, and lifted my head to look up at her again. "I promise you we will find a way to strip Cassian's mother of her powers, and once it's safe she'll come to live in Velaris with us."

Her demon master would never let her go without a fight, and I knew to the very depths of my being that I was no match for him. Even if Tamlin and I battled the demon together, we would still lose, and all the research and good intentions in the world would not change that one glaring fact. Pushing up off the ground, I straightened to my full height. "Thank you, Feyre. I was so upset at the thought of being at odds with Cassian that I failed to see a possible solution to the problem his mother presents. If you find anything that might be useful to strip her of her powers, send Mor with the information immediately."

"Or I could bring the –"

"No, send Morrigan," I cut her off, unwilling to have my mate and unborn child in such close proximity to the witch and risk the demon finding out who she was. "I won't risk you traveling so far while you're pregnant." I gathered her in my arms, and brushed my lips against hers. "It won't be much longer until our son is born – I can't wait for that day to finally hold him in my arms and rock him to sleep. I love him so much already and I haven't even seen his face yet. It's a strange and wonderful feeling to love someone you haven't even met yet, and now I am feeling it for a second time. The first time with you and now with our son."

"I love you…." she whispered against my lips, a tender smile lighting up her face. _To the stars who listen, Rhys._

_To the dreams that are answered, Feyre. _Gently pushing her out of my mind, I carefully reconstructed the thick adamant wall to keep my thoughts of her hidden from the demon. "I love you, Feyre."


End file.
